


Sounds of Love

by TheSoulReader



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Deaf Character, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 43,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoulReader/pseuds/TheSoulReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where architect Maka meets Deaf!Soul. Oooo! I have a general idea of where this is going, but not a clue of how long it will be. Rated E because I like to swear...a lot. But no smutty loving for awhile. Not my characters, but definitely my playground! Thanks for the loan, Okubo!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scuttle, Scurry, Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello hello my lovelies! So, I've finished my first fanfic (Senseless), and decided to start on another. I was attempting to go to sleep, but that resulted in an epic fail, as I was thinking up new story lines. I had read elsewhere about someone having come up with Blind!Maka fic, and I thought "Dude, somebody should do Deaf!Soul!"
> 
> I'm relatively sure it already exists somewhere, but I've not yet found it, so I'm doin' it :p
> 
> This first chapter is incredibly short, but it is meant as more of a lead in without being a prologue. We'll see how far I get in the next few days :) Enjoy!

Maka Albarn hurriedly power walked down the sidewalk, cursing every few feet as she tripped in the absolutely ludicrous high heels she had chosen to wear for the day. She was late. Oh fuck she was so goddamn late! Kid was going to murder her. Murder her right in the face. Shit! She was making the white rabbit look punctual.

The day had not been off to a promising start. Her alarm had failed to go off which meant she barely had time to shower, there had been  **no**  time for breakfast, and, most heinous of all, no time for coffee. This had forced her to stop off at a local chain where they (un)miraculously managed to screw up her order. One wouldn't think it would be so hard to fill the request of black coffee to go, but apparently such simplicity escaped the "baristas" (a laughable title, she thought).

Kid had wanted to see her at 8 AM sharp. He couldn't see her at ten, even though it was an even number (he had pointed out that "even" and "symmetrical" were  **not**  the same thing), and nine was absolutely out of the question. He'd nearly fainted at the mere suggestion. Him and his damn need for symmetry.

And of course, when she thought things could not possibly get worse, they did. Maka suddenly found herself sprawled out on the cold cement and someone in front of her was shrieking like a maniac. She dazedly looked up and her eyes widened as she struggled to her feet. Dancing in front of her like a lunatic was a white haired man, wildly tugging his formerly white Radiohead t-shirt away from his chest. A skull shaped ear bud dangled limply on one side of his head, having been popped from his ear, and music blared from it angrily.

"Oh, Death! I am  **so sorry**!" she cried out, pathetically pulling a couple of tissues from her purse to try and dab at the lunatic's shirt.

He was having none of it and shoved her hands away rudely, attempting to push his ear bud back into its rightful spot.

"Hey! Come on, I'm just trying to help! It was an accident!"

He continued to ignore her, his hands digging in his pockets, seemingly searching for something.

Maka reached out and tapped him roughly on the shoulder, forcing him to look up at her. She was mildly startled to see striking red eyes instead of a "normal" color, but she pushed down her surprise and scowled at him.

"What the hell?!" she growled at him. "I'm  **trying**  to apologize to you! What are you, deaf?" she crossed her arms and snorted derisively.

The crimson eyed man blinked at her momentarily before a wicked grin crossed his face and he held up a rectangular card that simply read in bold block letters:  **YES**

Son of a bitch.

Maka gasped and covered her mouth with both her hands, eyes flicking back and forth from the card in his hand to the smirk on his face. The laughter was evident in his eyes. She felt herself turning crimson and swore that her flush matched the color of his ruby gaze.

She didn't bother attempting to say anything further as she scurried away from the scene of the crime.


	2. Caught in a Coner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, first off, I'm going to apologize for this chapter being a bit disjointed. I didn't want to rush it, but at the same time I have other ideas that are more important than this. Secondly, I apologize for Black*Star. I honestly can't stand the character, so he's hard for me to write. But I also find him wholly necessary in this particular instance. You won't see a lot of him, but...you'll see enough of him.
> 
> Tsubaki will make an appearance soon enough ^_^ Chapter 3 will be incredibly enjoyable I think
> 
> I apologize for my addiction to commas...and ellipses.

Maka managed to slink into the Shinigami Architecture building at 8:37 AM. She cringed as she peered through the doorway, hoping against hope to avoid Death the Kid. As she crept inside, making a beeline for the coffee maker, she once again found herself pondering the curiosity that was Kid.

She had no idea what his original name was. She forced herself to refrain from thinking of whatever it had been as "his real name" since his name was legally "Death the Kid", and that was his real name as far as anybody was concerned. Friends simply referred to him as Kid, which included those under his employ. But architectural rivals and others within the business cryptically referred to him as Lord Death.

Maka slipped into the break room, smiling brightly at the pot of freshly brewed coffee. Her triumph was quickly thwarted as a poised voice quietly stated, "You're late."

She paled and hung her head in abject dejection, more so from once again being denied the wonderful fuel that was caffeine than humiliation of being caught by Kid. She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly, shoulders hunched in apology.

He leaned against a counter, a single eyebrow raised, and casually sipped on his tea. He was tall and surprisingly lanky for his age with elegant aristocratic features and two toned golden eyes. His hair was raven black save for three horizontal white lines that encircled the left side of his head. They used to drive him absolutely mad, but medication and therapy ( **so much therapy** ) had helped him cope.

Kid was remarkably easygoing for all the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. He was a multimillionaire at only 24 years of age, but he handled the pressure with an ease and grace that Maka envied. Despite his name and his seemingly innocent appearance, Kid did not suffer fools. From a business standpoint he was absolutely ruthless. He was not without honor or gentility, always holding to his word when he gave it, but he would squash an opponent without a second thought if he found a weakness in an agreement.

Kid was the Master of Loopholes.

Maka presently wished she were the queen, as she would have loved to find a reason to slip away from his steely gaze.

"We had an appointment," he intoned quietly. Kid never yelled. The angrier he was, the quieter he got. The most terrifying sound in the office at any given time was Kid's complete silence. It was rather akin to a parent telling a child that they were disappointed. The action both stung and wrought terror.

The man was a genius.

"I know!" Maka wailed, edging towards the coffee maker, "I'm sorry, ok? I did my best, the morning just…did not work out for me."

"You don't say?" he sipped on his tea again.

Maka wasn't one for making excuses, and she didn't particularly want to share her humiliation with her boss, but it couldn't make things worse.

"I'm sorry!" she apologized again. "My alarm didn't go off, and I barely got a shower, breakfast didn't happen at all, and then I stopped at a stupid coffee shop to get some stupid coffee, but they got my order wrong, and then after they finally got it right I ran into some guy on the street and spilled it all over him, and he ignored me like a jerk when I tried to apologize, so I sarcastically asked him if he was deaf, and it turned out he was, and here I am, and  **I'm sorry**!" she blurted.

Kid stopped mid-sip and blinked at her owlishly.

"Did you just say you rudely asked someone if they were deaf…and they  **were**?!"

"Ugh, yes," Maka groaned, cheeks flushing at the mortifying memory.

And then the day got worse.

"BAHAHAHAHA! Oh no, you  **SO**  did not even!" a voice crowed from around the corner.

Bright blue hair made an appearance before the rest of the man, but Maka knew. She knew before she even saw him that there would be no salvaging this shit-tastic day.

"Please shut up, Black*Star. I already feel like an ass," Maka whimpered, hands covering her face in annoyance.

The blue haired goon only grinned at her, crossing broad arms and leaning against the doorjamb. He wasn't particularly tall, but he was sturdy. His chest was broad, arms muscular, and his neck was thick. When Maka had first met him she had assumed that it had been because he had worked in construction for so long. It turned out that she had been entirely mistaken. He was largely a gym rat, but claimed that, "Heavy lifting during the day keeps me in shape for the gym! A god never rests!"

His ego knew no bounds. He was a nice enough guy, though. He had to be, or her best friend would have never bothered to keep dating him. It amazed Maka that Tsubaki would put up with him at all, considering her mild mannered demeanor. But he added spontaneity to her life, and she, with her Japanese sense of propriety, kept him in check.

Mostly. Sort of. Well, she made an effort.

Maka pulled herself from her reverie, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. A headache the likes of which she had never experienced was brewing behind her eyelids and she exhaled sharply.

"Black*Star, what are you even doing here? You know Tsubaki is out scouting potential sites for the Two Hammers project today," she groused.

"Hey, Flatso, don't get pissed at me because you outed some deafie!" he quipped. Death, he was so crass. "I know she's out. But she left the project plans on her desk for me," he triumphantly raised a rolled piece of paper from the floor and struck a pose. "She knows gods wait for no one!"

And without another word, he pushed himself off the doorjamb and disappeared.

Idiot.

Maka grumbled and groused as she finally managed to pour herself a cup of bitter blackness, inhaling deeply before turning back to Kid. She already felt perkier, as if the simple aroma was enough to revitalize her body.

"So, about our meeting," Kid began, his hands now empty. He had finished his beverage during Black*Star's interlude. "Did you manage to convince Kilik that it wasn't particularly wise to build a structure that was so….top heavy?"

"Welllll," Maka said, a mild wobble in her voice. "Yes and no. We convinced him that the structure shouldn't stand vertically, but he is still insistent on the whole hammer thing."

Kid squinted at her, dubious.

"Is it symmetrical?"

"Yes, Kid," she sighed, closing her eyes to avoid showing her annoyance. He was a smart man, he really was, but she still had to constantly remind him that symmetry was not always the way to go. At least now she could show him mockups of structures that weren't his idea of perfection and he wouldn't devolve into a rabid writhing mass of insanity. Sure, he still twitched for a couple hours, but he was functional.

"Tusbaki and Papa went scouting for sites today. There are several that could work beautifully, just depends on what Kilik prefers. We should be filing for permits within the next couple of weeks.

"Excellent!" Kid brightened. "Good work, Maka," he practically chirped as he strode from the room.

She nodded in silent response and smiled as she lifted her cup to her lips and sweet salvation finally trickled down her throat.


	3. Ivory Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm on a roll here. I am pretty pleased with chapter three, but will also admit I am flying by the seat of my pants. I'm writing as ideas come to me (while training to maintain some sense of cohesiveness), but these chapters, while edited for spelling and grammar, are otherwise unread. Don't be surprised if you read this a few days (or even a few minutes) from now and the content is altered (usually addition of content). Chapter 4 is currently in progress, because I'm a glutton for punishment but am totally in love with this idea.

Maka's work week mercifully came to an end, and Saturday morning she decided she was in the mood for a jog. There was no particular rhyme or reason to it. She didn't even engage in the activity all that often. She had just felt the inexplicable desire to get out and move, driven by some strange itch that she just couldn't seem to scratch.

After donning some running pants and an old t-shirt she swept her ashen locks up into a ponytail, musing to herself about how she used to keep her hair in pigtails. Such an immature hairstyle, but she'd be lying to herself to say she didn't miss them sometimes. Merrily she made her way down the stairs of her apartment complex and set off on a nice easy run.

Maka put herself on autopilot, allowing her feet to carry her wherever they so chose and she soon found herself in the local park. The autumn air was crisp and clean, the leaves blazing against the sky in wondrous oranges and reds, and she felt the warmth of the smiling sun on the back of her neck. She waved kindly at a little boy who smiled and giggled as she jogged past and then allowed herself to become lost in the rhythm of her footsteps.

It wasn't until she heard footsteps behind her that she got a bit nervous. It wasn't unusual, of course, for other joggers to slip by her, but these footsteps made no attempt to speed up and move past her. They matched her footfalls. And when she increased her speed so did they. She knew that any typical female would have followed the natural instinct to try and escape; to hide somewhere until she felt safe.

Maka Albarn had never been a typical female.

She whirled around on her stalker angrily, invading their space before they had a chance to invade hers.

"What the  **hell**  are you doing?!" she screamed. "What kind of sicko follows a woman through a park?!"

Her eyes came into focus, having been blurred by anger and adrenaline, and then they widened. The white haired man she had tumbled into all those weeks ago stood in front of her, gesturing wildly. He alternated between putting his finger to her lips to shush her and raising his hands in front of his chest in an attempt to placate her, a large black bag being used intermittently to block any possible kicks to his crotch. Maka managed to stop yelling, but it was the result of shock versus actually being over her tirade.

Several people were staring at them now, and one concerned bystander asked if the strange man was bothering her. She eyed her follower skeptically but stated that everything was fine, she was ok. He wasn't going to hurt her. Mr. Creeper sighed audibly and then awkwardly offered a laminated card for her to view, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched.

**SORRY**

She stared at the offering and then looked into sanguine eyes again, reminded of the first time she had seen one of his cards. And she laughed. Her eyes squinted shut and she threw her head back and laughed like the world was ending and she'd better enjoy every last second she had to live. When she opened her eyes again, his facial expression had gone from sheepish to angry, clearly offended by the rejection of his apology.

While she wanted to feel that this was just payback as he had just stalked her through a park, she instead felt guilty and reached out to grab the sleeve of the leather jacket he wore.

"Wait," she shouted. "Don't go."

He stopped and slowly turned his head back towards her. His eyes were still angry, but she figured he must be willing to hear her out (oh, Death…hear her out!? Was that cruel?) since he had stopped.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. That wasn't kind of me," she offered him a sheepish smile.

He patted his pockets a bit before pulling out his cell phone, holding up a finger in a gesture for her to wait. His thumbs traveled wildly over the screen before he held it out to her.

_Would you be willing to grab a coffee with me?_

Maka made a confused noise and stared at him.

"You're asking me out?" she asked incredulously.

He began typing furiously again and once more offered her the device.

_Sort of? It was my fault when we ran into each other awhile back, and while you did ruin my favorite shirt, I should have been paying attention._

She smiled a bit as she read the beginning of the message, snorting with great mirth when she finished it.

_Plus I did just kinda stalk you through a public space like a creeper. I owe you for not bashing me in the balls._

"That's…sweet, but, maybe it's not such a good idea," she said in a rush. She was flustered, surprised that it didn't feel strange to her to verbally speak to a deaf man. He seemed to understand her well enough though, and she wasn't going to rush away while they were still conversing. Somehow that felt even more impolite than it would have otherwise.

_What, you afraid of hanging out with a deaf guy?_

He smirked at her, confidence written on his face. He had thrown down the gauntlet. Nobody called Maka Albarn afraid. She wasn't afraid of anything!

She huffed indignantly, hard green gaze meeting lazy ruby.

"Alright then, but  **you're**  buying!"

He offered a bright smile and nodded his acquiescence, gesturing for her to walk with him. Maka nervously fell into step beside him, unsure of what to do with her hands, or whether or not to try and converse with him. She hoped she wasn't making a huge mistake. But if she were to be completely honest with herself, she was pretty sure it would be a bigger mistake not to go.


	4. The Things Nobody Asks

It was a short but silent walk to a nearby café. She'd passed this particular place many times, but had never really taken notice of it. It was slightly off the beaten path, a bit of a hole in the wall. She already felt appreciative of it. It had the ominous name of "The White Reaper Café", but the feel inside was cozy and quaint. When she considered the company she currently kept, she was moderately surprised at his choice. He had struck her as a chain store type of fellow.

And then she cursed herself for being so shallow and judging him before she even knew him. Not that she was here to get to know him at all; of course not. He was just offering her a coffee because he'd nearly scared her into an early grave.

Her companion led them to a quiet corner table and began pulling out his laptop. Maka frowned, wondering if he was going to surf the internet or some other such thing when he had supposedly brought her here to make amends. Her consternation was quickly replaced by revulsion when a busty waitress bounced (quite literally) over to their table.

Golden eyes peered keenly at the young man who had already begun to slouch in his chosen seat, and she practically purred as she bid him good day. Her dress left little to the imagination, black and slinky, showing off the kind of curves Maka most definitely did not possess, and long purple hair framed a narrow face. Her nails were long and painted black, looking similar to claws. The irony was not lost on Maka when the woman referred to her compatriot as "kitten."

Red eyes positively lit up when he saw her, and Maka felt her stomach twist again. Was he really so tactless as to bring her to a place where he could ogle other girls? What the hell! She felt her face flushing with anger but attempted to keep a lid on her temper, quick movements catching her eye as she stewed in silence.

Her head tipped with curiosity as the messy haired male suddenly stopped and then turned to her. He flicked his hands about, twisting elegant fingers into shapes she didn't know were possible. When she only furrowed her brow, clearly confused, the waitress giggled softly and spoke.

"He asked if you know how to sign," she chirped brightly.

"Oh!" Maka blinked and dropped her eyes, suddenly ashamed of herself. "N-no, I'm sorry."

The waitress smiled softly, flipping violet locks over her shoulder as she shrugged in relative indifference. She turned once again to the male in the corner and gestured back at him before nodding quickly.

"He wants to play a game," she smirked, trying and failing to hold back another giggle. "I'm Blair, by the way. Don't mind me, just your friendly neighborhood waitress and sign language interpreter! I'll be back in a minute."

And the bubbly woman bounced away again, presumably to take care of other customers.

Maka's gaze returned to her new acquaintance. He seemed entirely too relaxed for the situation, a lackadaisical smile on his face, the front legs of his chair lifting up off the floor as he leaned backwards, long arms folded behind his head. An ivory eyebrow arched upwards on his forehead, an apparent invitation for her to speak. He waited a moment longer before leaning forward and placing a small stack of laminated cards on the table.

"Game?" she inquired, immediately curious.

He huffed lightly, sorting through the cards and nonchalantly placing one in front of her.

**SORT OF**

Her nose wrinkled as she contemplated the card and then the strange person she had chosen to spend her time with. She didn't like not understanding what was going on. But Maka was an intelligent woman and quickly thought back to the two other cards she had seen from him before.

**YES**   
**SORRY**

Green eyes lit up with excitement, and she leaned forward as if she were a paleontologist that had made some great discovery.

"Is this how you communicate?" she spoke hurriedly.

This time he frowned. He picked through his cards and placed another in front of her.

**SLOW DOWN**

It was hard for her to contain her excitement, but she did as he asked, speaking more slowly. His answer pleased her. Or rather, her solving of the puzzle pleased her, fingers clenching into happy fists as she read his cards.

**YES** –followed by– **SOMETIMES**

Maka thought about her next question carefully, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she pondered.

"You can read lips, then?" she tilted her head as she asked, moderately annoyed when he rolled his eyes at her before nodding and tapping the "sometimes" card.

"Why only sometimes?" she was horrifically inquisitive.

He began typing on his computer as she finished asking her question, and, had she been a dog, her ears would have perked right up. She was insanely curious about what he was doing, begrudgingly fascinated by his behavior.

As she waited for him to finish writing, Blair returned to set down two large mugs between them. Maka watched as fiery eyes flicked towards the effervescent waitress and recognized the simple sign for "thank you." Blair gestured back a pleasant "You're welcome!" before she asked if Maka needed anything else. She shook her head no and offered her own thanks, thin fingers wrapping possessively around her mug before returning her attention to the man at the computer. It just barely registered in her mind that he must have ordered their drinks when they had first sat down. She was far too immersed in her current conversation to think about anything so trivial as coffee.

Absently, he pushed his pale hair out of his face, the headband he wore clearly doing nothing to help tame it, and gestured for her to come and sit next to him.

Maka was skeptical.

He huffed and frowned at her, clearly exasperated, before he motioned again, more emphatically. When she still didn't budge, he hunched over the keys before cautiously turning the laptop so she could view the screen.

_I'm not trying to pull anything. It's just easier if I don't have to constantly turn the screen. Have a little faith._

Maka had the presence of mind to look abashed, cautiously maneuvering her chair around the table to sit next to him. She was suddenly hyperaware of him; of everything about him. He smelled spicy and smoky, like a bonfire, and she noted that even though he had features that most would consider harsh, she appreciated their unique quality. His carmine eyes were captivating, and there was an almost overwhelming urge to run her hands through his frosty hair. She found herself intrigued by the golden hue of his skin considering the otherwise obvious signs of albinism. He was slouching, as if there was a permanent hump in his back, but she was all too cognizant of his true size. He certainly had a presence about him.

He tapped her and then pointed at the screen.

_You're staring._

She choked on her sip of coffee and tried to hide her blush. He only smiled, smug bastard. She tried to take the focus off her momentary indiscretion by reiterating her earlier question, which he answered with no hesitation.

_I can read lips, but people often speak too quickly for me to understand. Or they're too chicken shit to look at me._

Her head swiveled sharply, eyes surprised and then sad as she contemplated the meaning of his last sentence.

He scowled at her.

_Don't do that._

"Don't do what?" she frowned back.

_Don't pity me. I'm not…damaged._

"Well, that's true enough," she agreed with him. "But your social skills could use a little work."

He only continued to glower.

Rather than dwell on the tension that was clearly building, Maka sipped daintily at her coffee while he indulged in what appeared to be a chai tea. She hummed to herself, contemplating her next question. Clearly he wasn't bothered by her inquisitive nature, and she felt she should indulge in the opportunity while she had the chance. She wasn't sure it would present itself ever again.

He had momentarily lost his focus, checking something on his phone. She forced herself to ignore the rude gesture and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. When he looked up she made sure to look directly at him, and she made a greater effort to enunciate her words.

"Were you born this way?" she asked, hesitant, knowing she was walking a fine line. Especially with someone she had only met once before, twice if you counted the park. Neither run-in had been pleasant, save for the latter resulting in the current excursion.

He sat up a bit straighter, eyes hardening briefly before he sighed and gave her a softened smile.

_If you're asking if my lack of hearing is caused by my albinism, then the answer is no. They are two separate misfortunes._

Maka dared to try her luck one more time. She knew she was prying, but she couldn't help herself. She always wanted to know more, wholly believing in knowledge for the sake of knowledge.

Plus, she was just kind of a nosy bitch.

"How did you go deaf?"

His nostrils flared when she asked this question and he turned away from her abruptly.

She openly cringed, unable to stop herself from reaching out and placing her small hand on his forearm. When he continued to ignore her, she offered a small squeeze, relieved when he opted to face her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. That was rude of me."

He firmly nodded his agreement.

She smirked at him, embarrassed and amused. He didn't have a problem calling her out and she didn't have a problem with him doing so. Another gulp of coffee was swallowed before she raised her hand to push a stray strand of hair behind an ear. She regarded him silently before speaking again.

"May I ask you one more question?"

His hands were folded in his lap now, posture notably more closed off than when they had first arrived. He was feeling distrustful of her, and that made her feel guilty and small.

"It's not like you have to answer if you don't want to," she said, attempting to be casual.

His brows knitted together for a moment before he gave her a single nod of acceptance.

Maka smiled lightly, pleased that he was willing to allow this one last intrusion.

"What's your name?"

He sat up stick straight and looked at her with startled eyes. His hand pressed to his chest and he leaned forward a little, looking out into the café and then back at her. It was the universal gesture of "Who, me?"

The young woman was unable to stifle a giggle as she nodded at him. "Of course I mean you! Who else could I possibly be asking?" she gestured to strangers in the vicinity. "And I think it's only fair that I know the name of the man that knocked me over and chased me through a park!"

Grassy eyes followed the cursor on his laptop as he wrote for her.

_Nobody has asked me my name in a very long time._

This time, when her eyes fell on his face, there was no pity, no sadness, just genuine interest. She absently patted his knee and softly said, "I'm asking."

He brought his right hand up so Maka could watch him make four simple signs before he lowered it again. Then, before she could say or do anything else, he reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a single card. It was completely pristine, separated from the rest of his deck and unmarred by any touch other than his own. He gently pressed the object into her tiny hand with a hesitant smile.

Maka's gaze dropped to the seemingly blank card and slowly turned it over to read it.

**MY NAME IS SOUL**


	5. Giddy as a Schoolgirl

Maka lay curled in a tight ball on the edge of her couch, thick novel in hand, nose buried between the pages. She had been hoping that her voracious literary appetite would keep her from dwelling too much on her afternoon outing. She had been sorely mistaken. With an annoyed huff, she set her book down on the coffee table before tucking her knees beneath her chin and hugging them.

The young woman had learned a few more things about Soul, thinking she would have to be satisfied just learning his name (as if that were enough for her now). She had learned that he had grown up in Boston, had only lived in Death City for the last ten years, he was twenty eight years old, and he had a wicked penchant for sushi. She had also learned that he possessed a bit of a sick sense of humor, often using his com cards to embarrass others for pointing out his inability to hear. He had **fifteen** different cards just for that purpose, including "Tell her what she's won, Johnny!" and "Nailed it!" His personal favorite was "Can you repeat that?" People often tried to do so, and that was hysterical every time.

When she had told him that she felt that was absolutely horrible, Soul had replied that he had no sympathy for them. It was they who had called attention to his handicap simply because they were impatient and lacked understanding. He had raised an eyebrow and pointedly stared at her then. Maka had dropped her head, properly chagrined.

A blush lit up her face and she put a hand against her cheek as she remembered how she had brazenly given him her phone number. Before they had parted ways, he to take care of some personal business, and she…well, because he had somewhere to be. He had asked for her name. It was only fair, after all, since she knew his. Foolishly she spoke, as if that would be useful to him. But he had been kind about it, asking her to write it down for him. She had penned her name onto a nearby napkin, even going so far as to write out the pronunciation. And then she had written her phone number, smiling coyly as she handed him the note before smoothly slipping out of the café.

Truth be told, the poor girl had been beyond flustered. As soon as she was out of sight of the café she had made a mad dash for her apartment as if her ass were on fire. It was absolutely ludicrous, but she had been out of her element. Curling up with a book once she had returned had been her first thought, though it had resulted only in her present frustration.

Huffing heavily, Maka shoved herself up off the couch and reached for her phone. Maybe Tsubaki would be able to offer her some advice. For all her apparent innocence, the young woman was incredibly wise, and she was a good listener. She was also a bit of a closet pervert, which was both fortunate and uncomfortable for straight laced Maka. The memory of catching Black*Star taking her against the counter of the break room at work would forever be burned into her memory and her retinas. That had been borderline unforgivable, and she still felt queasy whenever the memory surfaced.

With a vigorous shake of her head, Maka squelched the feeling in her belly and dialed Tsubaki's number, idly pacing the room while the phone rang.

"Nakatsukasa Tsubaki!" came a cheerful voice.

"Hey 'Baki," Maka responded, equally bright.

"Maka! What's up? Anything the matter?" Tsubaki's voice went from excited to converned

"What?! Nothing's the matter. Why would anything be the matter?" Maka frowned. Was she that easy to read?

"I'm always glad to hear from you Maka, but you usually just text. Unless something important is happening. So, what's up?"

The mossy eyed girl knitted her brows together, sighing into the phone before she gave in and spilled the beans. All of them. How Soul had chased her through the park, the time they'd spent together at the cafe, the way she had given him her phone number. She couldn't help herself. The truth flowed like water from her lips, and she groused a bit as she heard the light tinkling of the Japanese woman's laughter on the other end of the line.

"It's not funny!" she grumped.

"Well," Tsubaki replied, "Maybe not funny, but it certainly is adorable. Maka, you're smitten!"

"That is absolutely ridiculous! I don't even know him!"

"You know enough, don't you? Enough that you're interested. I've never known you to hand out your phone number to veritable strangers," Tsubaki sounded dangerously smug.

Maka stammered into the phone, embarrassed at the assertion, mortified at the realization that perhaps her best friend was right. She didn't just hand out her phone number to random people. Especially not people she barely even knew! Except she did. At least, she did now.

"So," the raven haired woman intoned. "What is it about him that has you so wound up?"

Indeed, what did have her so hung up? He wasn't anything special...was he? She contemplated Tsubaki's question as she fell back onto the couch, mind racing, fingers twitching against the phone she still held to her ear. Her mouth opened, poised to speak when her phone vibrated loudly, startling her. A most undignified shriek burst from her lips and she heard her friend wail on the other end of the line.

"For Death's sake, Maka! What was that about!?"

Maka cast a quick glance to her screen before hurriedly excusing herself from her current conversation, apologizing upside down and sideways for her rude behavior.

"'Baki, I am so so sorry, but I HAVE to go! I'll text you later, ok?"

"Ugh! It's just as well anyway! I think you burst my eardrum!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sooooo sorry, I will take you out to lunch this week, my treat. Ok?" she was practically pleading as she continued to pull back her phone and stare at the screen.

"Go on. I'll talk to you later," Tsubaki acquiesced, though there was a clear smile in her voice. And then there was silence on the other end.

Dainty feet were pulled up onto the couch and Maka hugged her knees, staring intensely at the phone screen. She felt like a giddy teenager and her ears pinked as she read the simple text message over and over.

**HEY. IT'S SOUL.**


	6. Mobster Chic

Sunday morning came far too slowly for Maka. She had spent most of her night tossing and turning, unable to put her conversation with Soul out of her mind. His presence lingered long after she had quit speaking with him, and the weight of that fact was not lost on the young woman.

She didn't much care for it.

And yet, though she had managed only four or five hours of sleep, she had awoken refreshed and bright eyed. The laughing sun greeted her through her window and she smiled broadly in return. Long fingers slid through messy ashen locks and she contemplated what to do after breakfast. In spite of her better judgment, she had agreed to go out on a date with Soul. An  _actual_  date. On a Sunday no less!

Maka had done her best to dissuade him, but resistance was beyond futile. Every argument she threw at him he easily defeated. Arguing that Sunday was to be a day of rest in preparation of the work week earned a textual scoff. Mentioning that she had an 8 AM meeting with her boss resulted in him calling her "grandma." Stating the obvious that people just  _didn't_  go out on dates on  _Sunday_  allowed him to educate Maka in the ways of Soul.

"Just because other people don't go out on Sunday," he'd said, "doesn't mean that we can't."

Societal conventions did not apply to him as far as he was concerned. At least, he worked hard to make it appear that way.

As far as she was concerned, convention was absolutely everything. Her philandering father had made her skeptical of men. Even that was putting it mildly. She had worked long and hard to avoid any sort of relationship, deeming the opposite sex untrustworthy and nothing but trouble wrapped in heartache. Dating in high school was never a priority for her, and once she had made it to college, keeping her grades high and her career sights on the level were all she had time for.

Shaking the last of the nighttime cobwebs and conversation from her sleep-addled brain, Maka slipped from her bed, donned a robe, and headed to her kitchen. She really wasn't much of a cook, but she could manage waffles if she put her mind to it. Yeah, it was definitely a waffles kind of day.

* * *

The early afternoon found Maka and Tsubaki in a local dress boutique. It was an attempt to find Maka something suitable for her date, but absolutely nothing was living up to her standards. Tsubaki was relatively sure that had it not been for her presence her best friend would have torched the place out of sheer frustration. It was really quite comical, but the inky haired woman kept her mirth in check, continuing to make suggestions.

"How about this one, sweetie?" she held up a strapless little black number with asymmetrical ruching.

Straw colored locks flailed wildly from the other side of a clothing rack as Maka shot down Tsubaki's latest find.

"He said 'Little-black-dress-like attire,' he  _didn't_  say an actual little black dress!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Maka! What are you going to do? Dress like a virgin for him?" Tsubaki chuckled lightly. "I think we both know that particular ship has long since sailed!" she squawked as a yellow monstrosity hit her right in the face.

"Point taken," she coughed before straightening her ponytail and beginning her search anew.

"Goddamn it!" Maka spluttered angrily as metal squealed across the rack. "Is it so much to ask that I find a dress that's...just...right."

Tsubaki raised an eyebrow and walked around the clothing stand, curious as to what her jittery companion had found.

"'Baki...I think I found it..." her voice was barely a whisper. She almost sounded like she was going to cry.

"No need to get upset, Maka. It's just a dress..." an elegant hand alighted on a pale shoulder.

"No. No, 'Baki, I found  _the_  dress," Maka spoke more forcefully as she held up her prize.

There was a gasp, and then a smile, and then a perverted glint that lit up Tsubaki's eyes as she looked over Maka's find.

"That is most definitely the dress. If this doesn't do it for him, nothing's gonna."

Maka held back a squeal of delight, flushed with happiness as she began discussing the perfect set of shoes she had to go with it, and how she needed to find a new necklace and some earrings. The willowy woman beside her only smiled and nodded as she lead her to the cashier. Her friend didn't realize how smitten she was, but perhaps, for now, that was best.

* * *

After she had made her purchase, Maka and Tsubaki had enjoyed a leisurely lunch at a nearby restaurant before going their separate ways. Tsubaki had plans with Black*Star (plans that Maka did not need to or want to know about) and Maka felt the need to take a nap and relax before getting ready for her date. She was anxious and on edge and figured that a nice long soak in the tub would do her some good.

Water had always soothed her nerves and she spent as much time around it or in it as she could. Unfortunately such opportunities were fleeting in Nevada and time spent in the tub was all she had. But she didn't complain. Instead she immersed herself in silken liquid, blew bubbles like an immature child, and splashed about while drawing patterns through the tiny ripples she created.

By the time she had to pull herself out to dry and style her hair, she was much more at ease, smiling at herself in the mirror before moving to slip on her earlier purchase. It was a tasteful dress, though not particularly conservative. It was an emerald hue to match her jewel toned eyes, the cut at the hem asymmetrical to draw attention to her long legs and away from her modest chest. The top of the dress came together in a simple halter with the front only offering a hint of creamy skin, and the material was smooth silk that slid in the most absolutely sinful way across her body.

She had chosen simple white heels and a string of small pearls her mother had sent to her as accessories, her tiny earlobes dotted with emerald studs. Wheaten locks had been pulled up into a simple updo with two curled tendrils framing her narrow face, revealing her long neck. Her make up was simple. Light metallic green eye shadow and classic red lipstick. There was no need to overdo it. Simplicity was beauty. Maka had to hand it to herself, she looked pretty fucking fantastic.

She still didn't understand why she was trying so hard to impress him, but at least she had accepted it.

A quick glance at the clock showed that she still had fifteen minutes before his arrival and she hurriedly dug through her cache of purses and clutches before settling on a gold trimmed clutch of brilliant white leather. She rolled her eyes at herself, acknowledging how ridiculously girly it all was. Maka had never fancied herself a "girly girl," but her present behavior and state of dress was proof enough that, deep down, she was.

It really wasn't so bad.

* * *

There had been much hemming and hawing on his part about asking for her address as he hadn't wanted to make her uncomfortable. Maka had thought it cute, if not a bit silly (not that she had told him that), and had assuaged his concern with simple logic. If she felt safe enough to go out with him on another date (because the coffee thing  _totally_  counted as a date), she most certainly felt safe enough to give him her address. Besides, she could take care of herself, she wasn't a simpering weakling.

"Being a woman and being weak are not synonymous, Soul," she'd said, mildly perturbed.

"Synony-what now?" he had asked her.

"They're not the same."

She had received the non-committal text of "Mmm," and left it at that.

Among the myriad of things Maka had already learned about her new companion, she also learned that he was surprisingly punctual. She hadn't pegged him as the type. But she also hadn't considered him to be the kind of man that would enjoy a quaint coffee shop either, and she mentally slapped herself for judging him again. A quick text was sent his way before she threw on her pea coat and made her way downstairs to meet him. He had offered to come up, but Maka had told him not to bother. She appreciated the chivalry, and the offer of such a gesture was enough for her.

The sight she was greeted with had, yet again, not been what she was expecting. Soul was casually leaning against the hood of a taxi, though he stood up straight to present himself when he became aware of her arrival. He wore a black pinstripe suit with a blood red undershirt that brought out his eyes, a black tie, and shiny black oxford shoes. His hair was as unruly as ever, barely tamed by the thin black headband he sported, and a long black trench coat hung from his broad frame.

If there was such a thing as mobster chic, Soul was rocking the shit out of it.

Rather than giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging how rakishly handsome she thought he looked, Maka schooled her face into a relatively neutral facade, offering him only a smile and a nod in greeting. It was not lost on her when his sanguine eyes traveled the length of her body, lingering longer than necessary on her legs as he opened the cab door for her.

Maka slid coolly by, daring to stop only a hairsbreadth from his face so he could read her ruby stained lips.

"You're staring, Soul."


	7. Red Alabaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 7! W00T! Only note for this chapter is that italicized letters = Maka texting and bold italicized is Soul texting/signing. Any regular speech will be treated the same as ever

The cab ride to their destination was relatively short, thankfully. Perhaps ten minutes or so. Truth be told, Maka actually felt at ease around Soul, but her inquisitive nature got the best of her. She poked and prodded him through texts, asking where they were going. He only smiled and shook his head, offering the simple response that he was sure she'd enjoy herself.

Upon their arrival, Soul deftly exited the cab and made his way around to Maka's door, offering his hand to help her out. She couldn't help but blush. The last time she'd had a man treat her in such a gracious manner had been…well, never. It just didn't seem to occur to the opposite sex that while equality was a wonderful thing, sometimes a little old fashioned gentility was desired and appreciated.

Red eyes perused her form once more before he lead the curious blonde into a small alleyway. Maka grew momentarily dubious, eyeing him warily before he gave a gentle smile and tugged at the sleeve of her jacket. His eyes were soft, his body relaxed, and she followed his lead with the realization that if he had wanted to harm her, he could have done so long before now.

Hidden away within a small alcove of the alley wall was an oak door, and Soul knocked on it twice. A slat in the top section slid open and Maka heard a gruff voice ask for a password. She nearly laughed, it was so absurd! Was he taking her to a speakeasy? Was this 1920's Chicago? She chuckled lightly to herself and watch as Soul pulled out one of his com cards.

There was a grunt and a slight clack as the eye port was closed, followed by a creak and a groan as the heavy door was pulled open. A gust of warm air hit Maka in the face forcing a surprised gasp from her lips and she walked forward on slightly wobbly legs as Soul lead her inside.

The door slowly closed behind the two of them, the lighting set up in such a way that the corridor was in almost complete darkness. Maka jumped and lightly fell into Soul when a voice wafted from the shadows.

"We bid you good evening and welcome to The Black Room."

Her pale face turned to scan the darkness, but her eyes found nothing and she was forced to continue her way forward with her partner who showed no concern at all with their surroundings. The lighting brightened only moderately as they made their way down the hall, and it opened into a room with a red and black checkered floor. Thick velvet drapes of deep crimson hung behind a low stage and the entirety of the seating was comprised of five or six booths along the walls with two round tables set in front of a couple speakers.

This place, whatever it was, was obviously exclusive, and Maka felt out of place. Soul shared none of her concern, his large hand closing around hers as he lead her to a booth. His phone was immediately retrieved from his trench coat pocket once he had taken Maka's coat and settled himself opposite her. The device was held up a little, wiggled, and then he gestured at her lightly, eyebrows raised.

It was only their second date, but Maka was already glad she had picked up on the small hints that Soul gave. He was very consistent, and thus, relatively easy to read. Reaching into her clutch she pulled out her own phone and mirrored his earlier gesture with a smile before her nimble fingers skipped over the keyboard. Less than two minutes into being seated and Maka was already asking questions. She didn't waste any time.

_What is this place?_

**_The Black Room ;)_ **

_Ha. Ha ha. Ha. But seriously, where are we?_

**_It's a small club I frequent. Good food, good jazz music, good time._ **

Maka sat up abruptly, studying the man across from her. She was feeling suddenly nervous, unsure what to do with herself in such an atmosphere. Jazz wasn't really her thing. Music wasn't her thing. She liked it, like most people did, but she didn't particularly understand it. She found jazz particularly elusive to comprehend as she felt there was no real structure to it. Jazz was a very grey area of music in Maka's simple world of black, white, and trance fusion.

Her attention was drawn back to Soul as he gently nudged her ankle with his foot, a half smile upon his face as he texted her.

**_Something wrong?_ **

She shook her head lightly before she responded to him, wishing it were brighter in the room so she could speak to him verbally. The disconnect between them when they had to speak through machinery was frustrating and she didn't care for the loss she felt when she couldn't look directly at him.

_Music isn't really my thing. I don't understand it._

Soul chuckled a little as he read her reply. Maka blushed, embarrassed at having to admit that she didn't understand something.

**_It's not about understanding, really. Just feeling._ **

_I don't really understand that, either._

**_That's ok. I'll teach you. I'm a patient man._ **

Maka inhaled sharply, eyes flicking upwards to look into Soul's shadowed eyes. His entire countenance oozed confidence and he appeared incredibly serene. It was as if nothing in the world could bother him. The only person that held his attention was sitting in front of him, trying desperately to figure him out. She had a long wait ahead of her, but it was apparent she didn't mind.

Raising a hand to run his fingers through his hair, he exhaled softly before tapping a button embedded in the wall. The duo was promptly made a trio as a surprisingly squat man with pinched features and abnormally large eyes arrived at their table. He was balding, and his arms seemed strangely long for his frame with his legs appearing abnormally short. A large nose protruded from betwixt the nose pads of a black pair of spectacles.

He looked more like a Goblin than a man.

"Ahhh," came a low voice, almost hissed. "Good evening, Soul. I see you brought company with you tonight." Awkward hands signed as he spoke.

**_Good evening Oni._** Soul grinned devilishly as he signed, as if to try and out-demon the little goblin man. **_Indeed, I did bring company. A menu for the lady, please._**

Maka watched the exchange silently, continuously fascinated by the way hands artfully or awkwardly positioned themselves. The idea that this was a form of speech both boggled her mind and intrigued her.

"As you wish, Master Soul," the man called Oni replied, a snide sneer on his lips. "The usual for you then?"

Soul offered a single nod, clearly finished with their conversation.

Turning to Maka, Oni offered a slight bow as he inquired of her, "A drink for the lady?"

It took her a moment to regain her faculties, as between being awestruck by sign language and confounded by the physical appearance of their waiter, she had forgotten his purpose entirely. Blinking away the cloudiness that plagued her mind, she offered him a small smile and requested a glass of Cabernet.

Taking another short bow the little ogre scurried off into the shadows, and Maka was once again left with her alabaster demon.


	8. Sway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I friggin' love this chapter. That's basically all I have to say. Italics = Maka texting bold italics is soul, italics in quotation marks is singing
> 
> Links to songs:  
> Sway - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmYMkl1Grzc  
> Unforgettable - www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFhl2ddckKc

Dinner was eaten in relative silence, largely because it was just too hard and frustrating to eat and stop to text each other to hold up a discussion. Soul commented that he was surprised Maka had ordered herself a steak and Maka had been pleased to have surprised him for a change. She commented on the fact that he had ordered a martini but drank none of it. She did not press when he simply said that his father had liked them.

When dinner had concluded Soul slipped out of the booth and offered his hand once again. Maka reached for her coat, but Soul shook his head and tugged her gently. She had learned that it was easier to just follow him when he tugged at her, and did as he requested. He pulled out a seat for her at one of the tables near the speakers and, to her surprise, followed up his chivalry by offering her ear plugs.

Her nose crinkled and she looked up at him. "What are these for?"

Soul gestured to several mics over the stage and in front of the chairs where the musicians sat. When it was clear Maka did not understand his explanation, he texted her quickly.

**_I may be deaf, but you aren't. If you'd like to keep it that way, I'd suggest you put in the ear plugs :p_ **

"What?" that was of no help to her at all.

**_The Black Room is meant as a music hangout for the deaf. Everything is…louder._ **

At this, Maka nodded and took the ear plugs from him, daintily inserting them into her small ears. She picked the perfect moment to don her protective gear as musicians filed onto the stage. When they were settled, a tall, lithe woman with dark hair joined them to proudly stand in front of the center stage microphone. She wore a long red dress that glittered, hands adorned in elbow length black silk gloves. Long wavy hair fell over one of her eyes, coyly hiding half her face. Her lips were stained an enticing deep red and Maka could not help but stare. She was breathtaking, like a starlet from the 1940s.

There was a slight hiss offstage before Oni's voice wafted eerily over the sound waves. "Good evening ladies and gentleman, and welcome to The Black Room. Please enjoy the entertainment as Ms. Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre lights up your night."

Maka watched as a long arm slowly rose in the air and with a soft snap of the soloist's fingers a spotlight was on her and the blaring of brass cut through the silence. She managed not to jump, but Maka's eyes widened in surprise as the bright horns cut through the protection of her ear plugs and she felt the vibrations run through her body due to the nearness of the speakers. Soul only grinned.

The woman on stage moved her hips sensually as she began to sing, as animated as the music that backed her.

" _When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway_ _. Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more."_

Dark eyes roamed the room before falling on Maka. Jacqueline grabbed the mic from the stand before nimbly hopping off the stage, gliding over to the couple's table. She was not particularly subtle when she approached Maka, gloved hand sliding across the back of her neck.

 _"Like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease._ _When we dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me."_

When the singer slipped around the other side of the table to sensually draw her fingers along Soul's jawline, grinning at him seductively, Maka felt her temper flare. She felt disgust in the pit of her stomach followed by…what was that? Was she  _jealous_? That was absurd! She knew it wasn't what she  _should_  feel, but that's what it was, and she couldn't hold back her glare. Soul didn't notice, but Hot Lips McSkankface did, and she looked moderately apologetic as she moved away from them.

Maka nudged Soul's ankle with her foot, nodding at his phone.

_You really like this stuff?_

**_What's not to like?_ **

_True. It can't be all that bad having women hanging on you._

Soul didn't rise to the bait, replying casually with a shrug of his shoulders.

**_Part of the act, nothing more. I'm here with you._ **

Maka tried not to doubt his sincerity, but her father's unfaithfulness kept kicking at the back of her mind. She did her best to shove away her misgivings. After all, she was having a pretty great time, even if she didn't really "get" music. Her remembrance of that fact prompted her next question.

_Why do you like music so much?_

He blinked at her, pondering her question before answering succinctly.

**_Because it's part of who I am, even if I can't hear it anymore. I can hear it in my head, I can hear it in my heart._ **

She blushed brightly at his confession. The honesty of it was refreshing, but the poetry of his words, well, that was sexy. Especially if he hadn't meant to be.

_I wish I could understand that._

**_Who says you can't? What's something you really enjoy doing?_ **

It was Maka's turn to ponder. Her answer came to her quickly, a smile lighting up her face.

_Reading! I love to read!_

Soul chuckled, though it went unheard, covered by the melodies of the band.

**_I guess I shouldn't be surprised you're a bookworm._ **

Maka's brow creased, unsure whether or not she should be offended.

_What's that supposed to mean?_

**_Nothing. You just seem like the type. But the way you smiled when you mentioned reading is how I feel about music._ **

Suddenly, she understood. She didn't  _get_  music, but perhaps she could. Perhaps she could get him if she could fully grasp what music meant. Her smile could not be contained as she beamed at him, attention returning to the stage.

A slow ballad had begun and Jacqueline's eyes had closed, revealing shimmering gold eye shadow. She swayed lightly in front of the mic before her smooth, airy alto filled the small space.

_"Unforgettable, that's what you are. Unforgettable though near or far. Like a song of love that clings to me, how the thought of you does things to me. Never before has someone been more…"_

Maka looked away from the stage only to catch Soul staring at her. He was slightly flushed, his ear tips tinged red, but he didn't look away from her. A shy smile was offered followed by his open palm. There was a slight hesitation on her part before her fingers tentatively inched forward and slid into his hand.

" _Unforgettable in every way_ _. And forever more, that's how you'll stay. That's why, darling, it's incredible that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am unforgettable too."_

* * *

They found themselves at Maka's apartment door at one o'clock in the morning. It was far later than Maka had originally intended to stay out, particularly on a work night. She really couldn't find it in herself to care.

Soul had insisted on walking her to her door, once again displaying the chivalry she had by now deemed characteristic of him. She shocked herself by asking him if he wanted to come inside. It was only their second date! Was that slutty? Maybe? Yes...definitely yes.

He blushed, hair spilling over his eyes when he ducked his head. It was possible to shake that confident visage of his. He stepped closer to her and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Long fingers traveled along her jaw and under her chin to tip her head up. He was so close. Maka just had to raise up on her toes to kiss him, but she stood bolted to the floor, breath shaky, eyes half lidded. He leaned in, closer and closer, and at the last second he gently tipped her head slightly to place a soft kiss on her cheek. Maka barely had time to register the sensation before he was gone, heading down the stairs to catch his cab and leaving her dumbfounded and wanting.

Slipping into her apartment, she sighed as she leaned against the closed door. She was ashamed of her behavior, thinking she must have made a mistake by being so brash. And then the text came.

_**Always leave them wanting more.** _

And she most certainly wanted more.


	9. Blue Mayhem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This really isn't where I want it to be, but I was struggling. The next chapters will be far easier for me to write, but I needed a bridge for some of the plot points, and this was the best way for me to do it. Getting started was tough, but that's how it goes sometimes. Enjoy

 

Maka was unmotivated. It was quite unusual, because Maka was never unmotivated. Her whole life had been nothing but schedules and plans, all existing simply because she was so goddamn motivated all the time. But presently she felt like doing absolutely nothing.

The morning had dawned grey and gloomy and for awhile she thought that was the epicenter of her sloth. It wasn't. She felt incredibly bright emotionally speaking, sunny and satisfied. If she were to be so bold, she would probably say that she was irrefutably happy. Her happiness was interfering with her work. The best she could hope for was that nobody noticed.

Tsubaki noticed.

"Well, well, Ms. Albarn!" Tsubaki teased. "You are somehow managing to look bright eyed and exhausted all at the same time. You have a hot date last night?"

Maka offered a smile, elbow propping up on her desk so her head could lean against her hand.

"I had a date, yes. It was….enjoyable," she finished carefully. She didn't want to divulge too much.

"You know you have to tell me about it later, right?" the raven haired woman playfully bumped her hip against the seat of her friend's chair. "But in the meantime, Kid is getting antsy about those sketches for Ms. Gorgon. You might want to get on those."

Ashen hair was swept up and away from her neck to settle on her shoulders before Maka gave an answer in the affirmative. Her hand reached out for her sketchbook and Tsubaki made to move away when Maka called out to her.

"Hey 'Baki?"

"Yeah?"

"What does being in love feel like?" Maka's eyes were downcast, her brows knit together in pensive concentration. She knew it was an unusual question to ask, but there was no one else she knew that could help her.

Tsubaki was surprised by the inquiry, but she smiled just the same. Her arms crossed over her chest as she considered the question and then sighed. She knew the answer she was about to give wouldn't be satisfying to her friend.

"It is truly indescribable, Maka."

Maka frowned.

"I wish I could give you something more concrete, but there are no words for it. No words good enough, anyway. All I can tell you is that if you know, then you know," a gentle hand alighted on Maka's shoulder. "And," she continued, voice serious, but kind, "if there is somebody out there skilled enough to open your heart to even the possibility of love, maybe you're on your way already."

Maka nodded absently as Tsubaki departed. Her phone was unceremoniously pulled from her purse and she shot off a rapid fire text before she could stop herself.

_Hey…you wanna maybe go out for lunch today?_

Her stomach lurched while she waited for a reply. It disgusted her that she was so wound up over asking Soul to lunch, which only caused the knot in her stomach to coil tighter.

**_Yeah, that'd be great. I can't get away until 1:00. That ok?_ **

When his reply came she went from nauseated to so excited she had to pee. She felt she was an embarrassment to feminism and women everywhere. Whatever, her dreary day was looking up, and she felt considerably more motivated than she had all day.

* * *

Maka had been hoping to avoid any incidents in regards to her...boyfriend? Dating partner? Buddy she has dinner with? She didn't even know what to call him at this particular junction, but she knew she did not want to answer a ton of questions, nor did she want Soul interrogated by her friends. Or worse, her father.

It was as if the cosmos were laughing at her, as the office was full of all of the people she did not want interacting with Soul. Black*Star had arrived to pick up Tsubaki for lunch, her father had shown up looking for another set of blueprints (and had, as expected, smothered her like hollandaise sauce over eggs), and Kid...well, she supposed he wasn't such a concern. Then again, karma was not presently smiling upon her.

As she always did, she heard him before she saw him. The unmistakable sound of Black*Star's voice, raucous as ever. He seemed to be asking somebody who they were looking for, and when no answer came, Maka's heart fell into her feet. No. No, no, no. Nononononono. Soul couldn't meet Black*Star first. It had to be  **anybody**  but Black*Star. But Black*Star's questions continued as Maka raced down the short corridor to try and save poor Soul. She arrived in time to see the pair sizing each other up, Black*Star leaning towards the larger man, Soul leaning away from the blue haired weirdo.

"Hey, Maka! You know who this is? Won't answer anything I ask him, just stares at me."

Maka's hand found her face, the slap echoing in the hallway. She grit her teeth together and responded tersely, fingers reaching out to tug at Soul's jacket. He quietly moved to stand beside her while Maka attempted to clear the air.

"Black*Star, this is Soul. He's...a friend. Just came by to take me to lunch. And he didn't answer you because he can't hear you."

Red eyes shifted to give the blue haired dwarf a dubious glance. It was the mother of all side eyes.

"Ohhhhh! This must be the deafie you've been dating!" it was out of his mouth before he could think to stop himself. Not that he would have stopped himself anyway. Or thought about it. Thinking was not Black*Star's strong suit.

Soul's eyes went wide and then his fist flew forward, knocking his new adversary on his back. Maka shrieked as Soul stood over the fallen idiot, chest heaving, though his face was shockingly neutral. Another shriek followed shortly after when Tsubaki rounded the corner to see her boyfriend laid out on the carpet.

"WHAT HAPPENED!?" she yelled.

"SOUL PUNCHED HIM!" Maka yelled back.

"WHO IS SOUL?!"

"That's Soul!" Maka pointed at the man standing over Black*Star. Soul only waved, completely unconcerned by the whole situation.

Tsubaki moved to help Black*Star up, but Soul had already squatted down next to him, balancing neatly on the balls of his feet as he began to sign.

_**I told you what would happen if you called me that again.** _

Black*Star groaned and gripped his head as he sat up. He momentarily glared at Soul before he burst into near insane laughter, signing back to the deaf man as he spoke.

"You're right man, that wasn't cool. I earned that one."

Maka was incredulous. "Are you freaking kidding me?! Does everybody know how to sign except me?!"

Kid had made his appearance, staring blankly at Maka as he asked, "Really? That's the part you're focusing on?" It was oddly comical.

Maka could do nothing but splutter, face red, a headache blossoming behind her eyes. "I just...he was...and Black*Star...Soul punched..."

Kid held up his hand and merely shook his head. An explanation wasn't truly needed. "Whatever it was, I'm sure Black*Star deserved it. But Death on a doorknob, Maka! We can't have people barging in and knocking him out for everything he says. He'll end up spending more time at the hospital than he does at work. And that's a borderline issue as it is." Golden eyes narrowed at the blue haired idiot who didn't even have the decency to look like he felt bad about it.

"In the meantime," Kid continued on, "take your lunch break with...Soul, was it? In fact, I would suggest taking the rest of the afternoon. I doubt you'll get any work done while you're trying to figure out how to scold this behemoth."

Soul quickly typed on his phone and offered it to Kid.

_**I can read your lips you know.** _

A steely gazed was fixed on Soul as Kid nonchalantly leaned forward. "Oh, I know." He clasped his hands behind his back and promptly turned away, heading back down the hall to his office.

Soul typed again and handed the phone to Maka.

_**I like him.** _

Maka rolled her eyes and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Of course you do. Come on, we need to get going before anybody else shows up," she growled. By anybody else she meant her father. "And you also have some explaining to do about...this...thing," she gestured between Soul and Black*Star, clearly indicating she wanted to know what their connection was.

His jacket sleeve was grabbed roughly and she dragged him towards the exit. Soul tossed a smile over his shoulder and gave a merry wave, blissfully unaware of the storm that was brewing in his little companion.


	10. Flare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm probably going to end up doing some sort of time skip thing within the next couple of chapters, but the next two should still be linear with only a few days passing in between. This chapter is short, but sweet, and I am very happy with it. Enjoy the saccharine stickiness that is SoMa

Maka dragged Soul out into the crisp air of the afternoon. It was still drizzling out, which did not improve her now sour mood. While she enjoyed water, she did so in appropriate attire, that being a swimsuit or nothing at all. It did not appeal to her to have her dry clean only designer clothing sticking to her skin.

When they had traveled a couple of blocks in necessary silence (more so Maka wouldn't bludgeon the man than anything) Maka abruptly halted. Her small hand was held out and placed forcefully against Soul's broad chest, a small "Oof!" escaping him. He canted his head and stared down at her, legitimately confused, which only seemed to anger Maka further.

Stormy emerald eyes bore into ruby as she spoke. Her voice was low and there was a clear edge to it, one she wished he could hear.

"What. The hell. Was that?"

He frowned at her as he began to understand what she was talking about. A hand dipped into the pocket of his leather jacket to retrieve his phone, but she halted him. Maka was small but she was also mighty, and she was still fucking pissed.

"Don't bother, Soul. Don't fucking bother!" her eyes never left his, though she knew he was watching her lips. At least he was making an effort to listen, small consolation that it was.

"That was totally unacceptable! I know Black*Star can be a real asshole, but for Death's sake! Do you really think it's acceptable to come to my place of work and deck one of my co-workers!? Do you!?"

His mouth opened as if to answer, but she held her hand up to him.

"Oh, I am  **so**  not done! This is not going to work if you go off half-cocked like this. Is this a usual thing for you!? My boyfriend can't go around  **punching people**  every time they say something derogatory! And if you had waited two seconds I would have stood up for you!"

The last bit of Maka's speech belied her anger, her eyes turning cloudy with sadness.

"I…I have trusted you ever since you ran into me at the park. I trusted you because if I wanted to spend time with you, get to know you, I had to let myself believe you were a safe person. And I would have had to place that trust in you whether you could hear me or not," she whispered, her hand reaching up to rest against a tan cheek.

"Why couldn't you trust me enough to smack down that shithead?"

Soul peered at her, bewildered and cautious. He made no move for his phone, offered no com card for her to view. He furrowed his brow and dropped his gaze to the pavement, considering, calculating, shifting on his feet with nervous energy. When he finally returned his attention to her, his large hand reached up to mirror her action, warm palm pressed to her chilled cheek.

A careful thumb traced the line of her cheekbone and his Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to swallow the knot in his throat. And then his head dipped and there was the faintest brush of his lips against hers. It could barely be considered a kiss, but it was enough to electrify his skin and he stared at Maka with soft eyes. He just waited. She'd either kick him in the balls or…well, knowing what he did thus far about her fiery temper, he expected the kick to the balls.

She kissed him back.

There was nothing tentative about it. He was the one to gasp into her mouth and she was the one to pull him closer, her hand tangled in the lining of his jacket. She pulled back to look at him again, eyes half lidded, all traces of anger having dissipated with the surprise of sudden intimacy. She was startled out of her reverie when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

**_Boyfriend, huh?_ **

She gaped at him. When did he have the time to pull out his damn phone!? Was he that smooth or was she just that out of it? Shaking her head and snorting in feigned annoyance, she responded to him.

_Yeah, boyfriend. At least as long as you don't go around punching people anymore._

Maka was unable to hold back her smile as she realized their relationship status had just been solidified. The smile was quickly wiped away when she realized there was still some vital information missing from the earlier encounter between Soul and Star.

_You realize you still owe me an explanation about you and Black*Star, right?_

She received a response of various emojis that voiced his displeasure. Totally mature of him.

_Don't you give me that. Come on, you can tell me over lunch. I'm buying today._

Soul immediately perked up at this response, mouth tipping up in a broad half grin. His stomach chose to rumble at the same moment and he blushed, offering his girlfriend (holy shit, he had a girlfriend!) an apologetic shrug.

Maka only rolled her eyes before raising on her toes to give him a light peck on the lips. She could definitely get used to that.

"Come on you idiot, let's get some lunch."


	11. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the disappearance. In my head this story is actually complete, but I have not had the motivation to actually put it to virtual paper. That said, I managed this very short chapter for you. I am unsure if I want to go right to chapter 12, or if I am going to add what is currently labeled chapter 12 to this and do a separate scenes sort of thing.
> 
> This chapter is heavy in text interactions with plain italics being Maka and bold italics being Soul.

It was cozy in the diner. Warm and welcoming, and it gave Maka and Soul a much needed reprieve from the rain. Their orders had already been taken and Maka daintily sipped at a warm cup of tea while Soul indulged in a strawberry milkshake.

_It's freezing outside. How can you even drink that?_

**_It is *never* too cold for a milkshake._ **

Maka held back an eye roll, choosing instead to fiddle with the wrapper from her straw. She felt rather than saw Soul watching her, but said nothing. He still owed her an explanation for what had happened at her office, but she didn't want to nag. There was a fine line between gaining information and being a nag, and she didn't want to cross it.

She faintly registered the tapping of his fingers on his phone, jumping a bit when her own vibrated on the table in front of her.

**_I punched him because we're friends._ **

The blonde looked up, face crumpled in undeniable confusion. Soul didn't notice, too busy with typing to acknowledge her.

**_He's known me for 10 years. We just wanted to mess with you a little bit. But he knows better than to call me…that. I'm deaf, but I'm not blind. I know people talk about me, I read body language as well as I read lips, if not better. I expect more out of my friends._ **

_Ok, first of all, mean :p Secondly….ten years? You've known that blue haired ape for *ten years*!?_

He was staring at her again, and this time green eyes met red. The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, each calculating their next move. Relationships were tricky things and it had dawned on them that neither of them truly knew much about each other. But then, that was why people dated, wasn't it?

Maka threw down the gauntlet first.

_You have a lot of secrets._

Soul threw down a bigger gauntlet.

**_I do. And yet, you know more about me than I do about you._ **

Pale ears tinged red as Maka inwardly acknowledged his assessment. It was true. She had shared very little about herself with him, and yet she continuously asked him to share more and more of himself with her. The lack of reciprocity was telling, and he was calling her on it.

_Touché. You caught me. What is it you want to know?_

In classic Soul fashion, he gave her a succinct reply.

**_Everything._ **

A brilliant smile and a sincere laugh escaped her. He never divulged more than he felt like sharing, and even though their time together had been short, their relationship newly labeled, Maka understood that what he shared with her he gave of his own volition. No amount of poking, prodding, or pestering on her part would ever make it otherwise. It was only right that she offer him the same courtesy.

_Come by my place for dinner tomorrow? I can't cook to save my life, but I know a great Thai place…_

**_I'll bring the movies!_ **

_Movies?_

**_Oh please. We cannot have takeout and share secrets without movies :P_ **

It was Maka's turn to smirk.


	12. Humbled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trying to get back in the swing of things. This is a Black*Star and Maka chapter. Black*Star is relatively OOC. I have a very hard time writing him as I find the character to be incredibly obnoxious with almost no real redeeming qualities. I also never truly got the impression (in the manga or the anime) that Black*Star and Maka were really friends. Rather, I always felt the two of them just kind of tolerated each other, as their respective partners were such good friends with each other. That said, I took the opportunity to delve slightly beneath the surface with him in regards to how he feels about his friendships. I know I'm lame, but I pulled at my own heartstrings a bit. We have one or two more chapters before I do a time skip type deal.
> 
> I find it apropos that Black*Star's initials are BS

This wasn't the place she wanted to be. It was, quite frankly, the last place on earth she wanted to be. But as Maka and Soul had parted ways, the sky had opened up to unceremoniously dump a cold fall rain onto them both. Soul had offered to hail her a cab, but she declined, knowing a place she could duck into to wait out the storm. And yet, as she stood on the porch step, fist raised to knock on the door, Maka briefly wondered if it wouldn't be better to just risk being struck by lightning.

As a crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning announced themselves, Maka pounded on the door, shoulders sagging under the weight of annoyance. The feeling did not abate when she was greeted by an obnoxiously loud and cheerful buffoon with a notable black eye.

"Gooooood afternoon! What can your local god do for you?" Black*Star boomed. It was amazing that he managed to be so jovial when one considered the earlier events of the day.

Maka did her best to hold back a scowl, slinging wet bangs out of her eyes.

"If you don't mind, oh wondrous god, I would appreciate it if I could come in to dry off," she huffed.

Black*Star offered a facetious bow as he opened the door further, allowing his surprise guest inside. He followed behind her in unusually quiet fashion, collapsing onto a nearby chair. A pack of frozen peas was pulled from between the cushions and unceremoniously applied to his blackened eye, the other tracking Maka's movements as she stripped off wet shoes and torn pantyhose.

"I hope that eye hurts," the blonde spoke nonchalantly. There was no malice in her words, but she was absolutely sincere in her statement.

He snorted and ran his free hand through his hair, unfazed by her words.

"Why're you here? We're not exactly the best of friends. You could have taken a cab home, or to 'Baki's place."

There was a heavy sigh as Maka sunk into the cushions of Black*Star's dingy couch. She folded her hands in her lap before changing her mind and shifting her position, tucking her legs beneath her instead.

"I need you to teach me how to sign," she muttered. Asking the idiot for help was the last thing she ever wanted to do. But as much as she hated to admit it, she needed his help if she wanted to learn how to communicate with Soul through more than laminated cards and machinery.

"Ohhhhh! You need this great god to teach you how to communicate with your boyfriend, huh? How amusing!" he laughed at her.

"Yes," she growled. "I need you to teach me…please."

Black*Star swung his feet over the edge of the chair, frozen vegetables falling to the floor. He stared at her pointedly, his swollen eye bulging and purple.

"Why?" he asked. "Why should I teach you?"

"How long have you known Soul?" she responded.

"Ten years, but I don't see what that has to do with…"

"I have only known him for a few weeks. We've only been on four dates…but I see how hard it is for him. He lives day in and day out in silence," Maka stared at her companion briefly, eyes softening as she continued. "His whole world is silence. He communicates through cards or text messages, or he doesn't communicate at all. He has to rely on people understanding basic gestures…and they usually don't. He has to prepare for his day in ways I don't and have never had to think about, and I…."

"Don't you dare pity him!" came the sharp interjection. "Don't you  _dare_! He hates that, and  _I_  hate that!"

"Oh for Death's sake, Black*Star! Shut up! Just SHUT UP and listen for ONCE in your life!" Maka was on her feet, face flushed in anger. "I don't pity him! I admire him! He makes it through every single day in a world that is not equipped to handle his needs. A world that doesn't  _want_  to handle his needs! I need you to teach me because I…"

"Do you love him?" he asked. The voice was quiet and low, and there was an edge behind it Maka had never heard before.

"Excuse me?!"

"Do you love him? Do you care about him at all, or is he something for you to play with?" the gaze that was leveled at her was hard, dangerous.

Maka's head dropped, ashen strands shielding her face from angry prying eyes.

"I can't say that I love him. I don't know what that is. Death knows my parents didn't show me."

A derisive snort was offered.

"But," she continued, "I do care about him. More than I thought I would or could. And I owe it to him to be able to speak to him. To be able to look him in the eyes and  _talk_  to him."

The young man stood and strode over to the waif of a woman. He looked her over skeptically before clapping her heavily on the back.

"Alright!" he boomed. "Your god shall teach you how to sign! But on one condition!"

The glee on Maka's face was quickly wiped away, a harsh queasiness settling in her stomach.

"Ugh…what is it?"

"You must refer to me as, "Holiest of gods, Black*Star the Great!" for a whole year."

"…You're kidding."

"Yeah. Bring me a big jar of those almond roca candies and we'll be square."

"That's all you want?" an ashen eyebrow raised, dubious.

"Well…no."

"What else could there possibly be!?" she shrieked at him.

"Hey now! Don't yell at the awesome god who just agreed to help you learn how to hand jive with your man!"

The urge to facepalm was strong, but somehow she resisted.

"Don't hurt him Maka," Black*Star's voice was serious again, and there was an earnest look on his face that she had not seen before. Not in the many years that she had known him. "He's been through a lot in his life. A lot. It's not my place to say what, or when, or where, or how…but he deserves happiness. And you…you do make him happy. Don't take that away from him."

She couldn't stop herself. Her arms were out and around him before she knew what she was doing, face buried in a muscular neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He laughed nervously, patting her lightly on the back.

She pulled away from him, a soft smile on her face and a hand resting on his cheek.

"Hey, Black*Star?"

"Yeah?"

"I will do my best not to hurt him. I care about him very much. But…"

"But? What but!?" he was immediately on the defensive.

"If you ever call him a deafie again, I swear to Death that I will blacken your other eye!" she looked into his good eye, the expression she bore a mixture of a snarl and a grin.

The blue haired twit guffawed like a mad man, reaching out for her hand to shake it vigorously.

"I know you will."


	13. Across the Threshold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody :) Sorry if you thought I gave up on this story. Definitely not the case. I love this story. I've just been having to deal with personal things and was having trouble getting the inspiration to write. We're getting close to doing our time skip and I think you will enjoy these next two chapters. As of right now I am thinking that chapter 20 will be the end of this story, but we'll see.
> 
> Thank you to all who have left reviews and who have encouraged me to keep up with this tale. I still enjoy the premise very much and am hoping to evoke some strong reactions out of my readers.
> 
> This chapter is slightly more Soul-centric than usual. Enjoy. ^_^

Upon leaving Black*Star's apartment, Maka had taken a cab to the local library where she pored over whatever material she could find about sign language. She stayed until near closing, and before she left she checked out every book she had started on. When she had arrived home her first stop wasn't her refrigerator to find herself something to eat. No, she instead sat at her computer and found more sources for studying sign language.

She printed out a chart of the ASL alphabet, read about the history, and paled when she realized she was about to attempt to learn an entirely new language just for one person. Her night was spent in a haze of confusion and happy delirium, unable to decide whether or not to continue smiling or to throw up.

Eventually she had to give up the ghost, exhaustion taking the place of her desire to study. She slid into bed and grabbed her iPod from her nightstand, plugging her ears with headphones. This was a new habit of hers, something she had picked up from Soul. Though she still didn't get music like he did, she found the languid melodies of slow jazz soothing, and she drifted off to sleep with Ella crooning to her.

Maka's slumber was interrupted by the chirping of her phone and a sound knocking on her apartment door. She snorted deeply, surprised by the aural intrusion, and glared at…nothing. Heaving herself out of bed she shuffled towards the door, grousing all the way. Soul really was rubbing off on her.

"Who is it!?" she demanded. When no answer came, she threw open the door and yelled again. "I SAID, who IS-"

And there before her, a computer bag slung over his shoulder, stood a dumbfounded Soul. He blinked, then snorted, and then he laughed at her. He laughed! Maka could only stare. What was he doing here? Their date wasn't for several hours yet. Her eyes dropped to her phone, widening as she read the numbers on the screen. A text flashed across the display as she gaped.

**_Did you forget?_ **

The poor blonde just kept looking back and forth between the phone and the man in her doorway. It was 6:17…in the evening. The  _evening_! She had slept for  _fifteen_  hours. How was that even possible? She never…

Her reverie was interrupted by rough knuckles rapping on her skull.

"Ow! HEY!"

Ivory eyebrows raised and he looked back and forth from her face to the inside of the apartment. Without hesitation, Maka seized him by his leather jacket (she was really coming to love that stupid thing) and pulled him inside. She raised herself on her toes to offer a quick kiss, only to be surprised when he pulled her closer and lingered against her lips.

Oh. Oh, that was nice.

A dreamy smile settled on her face and she patted his chest lightly, asking to be released. Soul obliged, though begrudgingly.

_I need to go clean up a bit. The Thai menu is on the fridge. Have a look through it._

He nodded and placed another kiss on her forehead before she darted away, scooping up a couple of books from her coffee table and disappearing down a hallway.

After kicking off his shoes he sauntered over to her couch and set up his laptop on the coffee table. The couch was thick and plush, nothing like the ratty piece of scrap he had back at his place, and he noticed how absolutely pristine her apartment was. Her hardwood floors practically gleamed, and the bookshelves (of which there were many) were chockfull of material. He was sure there were more books in her apartment than he'd read in his entire lifetime.

For a brief moment Soul wondered what she was doing dating him. He wondered if he was good enough for her. A scowl crossed his pale features as he chastised himself. He  _was_  good enough. Of course he was. Soul had a lot to offer her, he just had to make sure she could see that. And things weren't going badly at all. They'd been progressing quite steadily in their relationship, and though he was cautious to admit it to himself, he was happy.

Having set up his computer, he strode to the kitchen to grab the menu off the refrigerator. A picture on the counter caused him to stop for a moment. A red haired man sat with a book and a small ashen haired girl in his lap. A large hand reached out to pick up the picture and Soul studied it with a great intensity. Though he still hadn't met the man, he deduced that the person in the picture must be Maka's father. Maka never spoke particularly well of the man. In fact, it really seemed that she despised him. And yet, she kept a picture of him reading to her prominently displayed on the countertop of her home.

A rueful smile tugged at the corners of Soul's mouth. Even if they weren't close, he desperately hoped Maka understood the importance of family.

A sudden pressure on his back startled him from his thoughts, a strangled yelp escaping him. The picture that he held flew up in the air, his hands shooting up in a frenetic attempt to catch it as it fell back down. Though he had to juggle it for a moment, he managed to clutch the frame to his chest, a relieved sigh pushing from his lungs. Once his faculties returned to him, Soul turned around to find his girlfriend with her hands up, attempting to placate him, wet bangs plastered to her forehead.

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to…what do you have?" Maka apologized and then pointed at the object he held so tightly.

A bright blush tinged Soul's ears as he offered Maka her picture with a sheepish grin. He hadn't been snooping. Not really. The picture had been right on the counter, but it was still embarrassing to have been caught ogling something that wasn't his.

Maka took the photo from him gently, seemingly unperturbed by his actions, and placed it back in its rightful spot. She brushed past him to pluck the menu from the door of the fridge and handed it to him.

"Here," she murmured. "I have to go dry my hair, but I'll be back in a few minutes."

He looked at her quizzically. She wasn't speaking clearly enough and it made it hard to read her lips. Clumsy fingers grabbed at her wrist as she tried to depart, a worried noise squeaking in his throat. It wasn't as if this was his first time in a girlfriend's apartment, but he was unused to being so readily trusted and he felt ill at ease.

"Soul, what are you..." Maka trailed off as she looked up into pleading red eyes. She'd seen him be shy, she'd seen him embarrassed, and she'd seen him a bit angry. But she had never seen him look insecure before, and it was plain as day, even to her, that that was how he was feeling.

A thin finger was held up to his face and she deftly slipped away from him to pull a pad and pen from a nearby drawer.

_I just need to dry my hair. Don't worry so much. Just make yourself comfortable and order dinner, you can order online. Get me something spicy!_

He whimpered and reluctantly let her go, trudging back to the couch and flopping heavily upon it. His mind whirled as he considered what he was doing. He was about to open up to somebody in a way he never had before. Yes, this evening was supposed to be filled with fun and laughter, and maybe he'd get a little play (not that he was counting on it). But this was also about getting to know each other better so they could stand on equal footing.

Soul had had a few girlfriends over the years, but never anybody he'd felt comfortable enough to truly share himself with. Even if he had, his relationships never lasted long enough to get to that point. The women weren't patient enough and couldn't handle life with a deaf man. He became a burden to them and was seen as less than a person and more as a problem. Maka was the first woman he had met that didn't make him feel small and insignificant. She didn't treat him as trouble or act like he would eat her soul. She challenged him, stood up to him, stood up  _for_ him, and did her best to interact with him.

Proverbial butterflies danced in his stomach as he turned his head to stare down the hallway. A shiver rushed through his body and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He was falling in love with Maka Albarn, that was undeniable, and he clung desperately to the hope that he would not scare her away.


	14. Friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey dere, hi dere, ho dere! Chapter 14 is here and there be mild sexual content for ye! No sex yet, but we're getting there ;) I had been planning for this story to end at chapter 20...it has become plain to me that is so not gonna happen. At this point I have given up on predicting when it's going to stop. It ends when it ends :p Enjoy!

Maka pulled a brush through her wet hair, wincing whenever it hit a snarl. She was in a hurry to get the mass of ashen strands dry and tamed as quickly as possible. It wasn't that she didn't trust Soul. Quite the opposite, really. It unnerved her that she felt so at ease having him in her home. It was a rare occasion that men came back to her apartment. If they did, it was only for sex, as Maka did not do relationships.

Until now.

Satisfied that her hair was dry enough not to turn into a veritable rats nest, she pulled the pins of the brush through her hair a few more times before taking a moment to stare in the mirror. She wondered why Soul hadn't acknowledged that she was wearing nothing more than a bathrobe earlier. She wondered if he found her attractive at all, and scoffed at her insecurity. Surely he must, or he wouldn't kiss her the way he did. But deep down inside, there was a large part of the young woman that was still a shy, distrustful, sixteen year old girl.

A scowl briefly marred her features as she exited the bathroom and hurriedly entered her bedroom to pick through her closet. Tonight was going to be  _fun_ , damn it! And she was going to make sure he noticed her, even if she had to look a bit juvenile to do it. Her hands sifted through mounds of clothing and she groused and griped until she found what she was looking for.

Her hand retracted from the closet, her prize firmly gripped within her small fingers. A plaid skirt, white button up, and yellow vest hung from the hanger. Maka couldn't help but smile as a flood of memories washed over her. This had been her favorite outfit growing up and she had a feeling, a deep, dark, dirty feeling, that such an ensemble could quickly become a favorite of Soul's, too.

Comfortable with her choice she quickly dressed herself, foregoing the green tie and chunky boots she used to wear. Simple white socks were pulled over manicured feet and she ducked back into the bathroom to pull her hair up. She briefly considered going with her pigtails since she was feeling so nostalgic, but she reined in her emotions and went for a simple messy pony tail instead.

Make up was not going to be a thing tonight. She wanted to look nice for Soul, but she also wanted him to see what she was like at home. Relaxed, carefree, and comfortable. This wasn't about putting on airs or impressing each other. They were beyond that now. They were at a point Maka had never experienced before. They were sharing secrets with each other tonight. Funny, embarrassing, serious, and somber. They were to be open books, and that was a metaphor Maka both appreciated and was terrified of.

With one last pull of the brush through her hair, she exited the bathroom and slipped into her bedroom to pick up her laptop. It had been decided early on that it would be easiest to communicate using their computers rather than fussing with phones. She made her way into the living room and set her laptop opposite Soul's on the coffee table, offering him a wave and a smile. Soul smiled back, though it quickly faded as he noticed Maka's attire. Red eyes glazed over and his nostrils flared as he took in the tight blouse and ludicrously short skirt. That ludicrously, gloriously, sublimely short skirt that showed off her legs. Sweet Death, she was trying to kill him!

Maka said nothing as she made herself comfortable on the floor. Her entire demeanor oozed of relaxation and comfort, but it was all a bluff. The tight black Metallica shirt he wore and his jeans with the holes in both knees were disgustingly appealing to her. He had taken off his boots and was sock clad as she was. It was all she could do not to climb him like a monkey.

_You order dinner?_

**_Yeah. Got a couple kinds of pad thai, some som tam, green curry chicken (you said you liked spicy) and fried and white rice._ **

_Suhweeeeet!_

**_You sure you wanna be on the floor? I mean, this is your place…_ **

_I prefer the floor to the couch when I'm on my laptop. Hurts my back to lean forward and type. And the laptop gets too hot on my lap, so…_

Maka paused to watch him as he tapped away at his laptop keys. She still wished she could talk to him, but she had only just started signing and she wasn't ready for him to know about it yet. While it was true they would be sharing many things about themselves tonight, this was a secret that had to be kept for awhile. She was positive it would be worth it.

A low grunt registered in her ears and she felt a nudge on her calf. She had been looking at him and not all at the same time, and he had caught her with her head in the clouds. Thin fingers reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose and she glanced at her screen.

**_Come sit with me?_ **

_How am I supposed to talk to you if I'm next to you?_

**_Who said anything about talking?_ **

Green eyes met ruby and he waggled his eyebrows at her, a devious smile spread across his face. Maka rolled her eyes, but got up and plopped next to him on the couch. Next to him is not where she stayed. She squealed as he unceremoniously pulled her onto his lap, but had no complaints when his lips pressed to hers.

It took her a moment to truly acknowledge she was being kissed, though once her brain caught up she was only too pleased to return the sentiment. There were certainly worse ways to spend time waiting for their food to show up. It was hard to say no to lips like his anyway. Soul was by far the best kisser she'd ever had the pleasure to make out with. Maka usually found such an interaction uncomfortable and invasive rather than enticing and exciting. Kissing was necessary foreplay, so she indulged past lovers. But kissing Soul? Oh…she'd do this for hours if he wanted to.

As in all things, Soul was forward but patient. He knew what he wanted but only took what was offered. He never pressured, never forced, never demanded. He was confident but cautious. Large hands rested on a thin waist but he made no move to dive under her shirt. His thumbs simply stroked up and down along the curve of Maka's lower back. She moaned against his mouth and shifted in his lap and he whimpered.

Maka pulled away for a moment, chest heaving from the lack of oxygen. She shifted again trying to get more comfortable, and when a low groan escaped the man trapped under her she frowned a little.

"Are you alri...OH!"

Already flushed from kisses, she didn't know if she could blush any brighter. She was sure her ears were going to catch fire as she felt his rather prominent erection pushing against her ass. It wasn't as if she was unfamiliar with such things, but Maka couldn't believe that so little had Soul running hot already. If she were sensible she would climb off his lap and give him time to settle down. But she wasn't so convinced that she wanted him to.

Soul watched her intently through hooded eyes, unmoving and unashamed. He felt no reason to hide his arousal and his fingertips gently squeezed her waist as he waited. It was not his place to tell her what to do, and if she wanted to climb off him and take a break he could deal with that. He wouldn't be particularly happy about it, but he could deal. The night was young and they hadn't even eaten yet.

Oh…eating. He knew exactly what it was he wanted to feast on and it sure as fuck wasn't Thai food.

He bit back an unhappy whine as she slipped off his lap but was pleasantly surprised when Maka not only returned, but straddled him. This new position caused her skirt to slide up and reveal creamy thighs and her crotch to rest squarely on his hard on.

Jesus fuck, he was going to die, and he was going to die a happy man.

Her kiss swollen lips met his again and her hips rolled against him. Delicate fingers found snowy hair and tangled in the strands, tugging at him to tip his head back. Maka had never been so bold before, typically more reserved when they kissed. Then again, he'd never been in her home before, and when it came to the end of their date nights there really wasn't any way for her to show this side of herself. She was uncomfortable with public displays of affection beyond hand holding and light kisses. She held herself back.

She certainly wasn't holding back now, and he wasn't going to grouse about it.

Maka had surprised herself. She really wasn't as bold as their current encounter would lead him to believe. Soul didn't know how distrustful she was of men. He didn't know where or why that distrust manifested, and he certainly didn't know she was terrified of how he made her feel. How she couldn't stop herself from practically trying to mold her body into his. How if she died from lack of oxygen because his kisses were sucking the life out of her she wouldn't give a damn. How she felt she absolutely would expire if he ever stopped making her feel this way.

How did he do this to her? How could he make her feel so out of control with nothing but his lips and his teeth nipping at her skin? How could she let him make her feel this way? Like nothing else in the world mattered but her and what she wanted.

A frustrated groan passed from her mouth to his as she sought friction. His hips rose up to meet hers, but it still was not enough. She wanted him bare beneath her. She wanted to take in every single inch of tan skin and run her hands over the hard muscle she felt beneath denim and cotton. Maka wanted to claim him for her own, to own him, and let him own her. She wanted all of it, all of him.

He was destroying her in the best imaginable way, rebuilding every single part of her, body and soul. And all he did was kiss her.

Nothing was going to stop Maka from having what she wanted. Nothing, that is, except a knock on the door.


	15. Engaging Spirit

Oh, this was good. This was so, so good. Soul had a woman grinding in his lap, and her tongue was in his mouth, and his tongue was in her mouth. His hands hadn't moved from the safe haven of the small of her back but his fingers felt the soft skin there. He failed to swallow a groan as Maka ground down on him. He was sure he was going to explode.

And then she pulled away. Her head turned sharply towards the door and there was an unbridled fury in her eyes. To say it was frightening was an understatement. He never, ever wanted that look leveled at him and he didn't try to pull her closer when she slid away and stalked towards the source of her ire.

He watched as she threw open the door and snatched some bags from someone on the other side. He surmised the delivery person was on the other side but did not understand why she was still so angry. Yes, they were interrupted, but it wasn't like they couldn't pick back up where they left off if she wanted to.

Maka slammed the door and turned on her heel, face beet red, shoulders hunched in anger. When someone opened the apartment door and grabbed her arm, time slowed for a brief moment as the albino man watched. It took only a moment before Soul exploded off the couch with a veritable roar and a meaty hand was wrapped around a surprisingly slender throat. A flame haired man was held fast to the nearby wall, clawing wildly at Soul's arm, gurgling (Soul assumed) as he desperately tried to free himself.

It wasn't until he felt a gentle touch at his back that he turned his head and realized Maka was still in the room. Her eyes were wide but she did not look panicked. A gentle tug was given to the arm holding the man in place and he watched her mouth as she spoke to him.

"Soul! It's ok, Soul! Let go. Let him go."

He was too on edge to understand her, but he watched as mossy eyes flicked from his face to the man under his hand. He was still struggling, but much less violently. Maka's hand found his wrist, soft fingers stroking the skin before wrapping around him and pulling gently. Soul let him go, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up his face as the man fell in a crumpled heap in the entry way. He resisted the urge to snatch Maka to his chest, opting instead to just watch the intruder. His girlfriend looked annoyed but not afraid.

"What are you doing here, papa!?"

The battered man wheezed and tried to stand. When he failed, he simply leaned against the wall, cerulean eyes flickering upwards to gaze at his daughter.

"I just wanted to see my baby girl! Is that so wrong?!" he coughed.

"You know you're supposed to call before you show up! I was…I have  **company** , papa!" Maka practically growled.

Maka's father took a moment to gaze more thoroughly at Soul, jumping to his feet with a cacophonous roar of his own. An accusing finger was shoved in Soul's face as the ginger man growled.

"Who is this…this…octopus head?! What were you doing to my sweet, innocent, Maka! Did you defile her!?"

Soul only blinked, head dropping to stare at Maka.

"Buh?" he rumbled at her.

What was this crazy man going on about? Burning eyes stared into the face of the elder man and ivory eyebrows made a beeline towards a snowy hairline. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. Face met palm as it dawned on him that he had just throttled Maka's father.

Oh Death he had strangled Maka's  **father**! This was it! He fucked it all up! Things had been going so well and he went and  **beat up his girlfriend's father**! But there was no way she was his girlfriend anymore. Oh, Christ! How could she date somebody that kicked her dad's ass! This was the worst first impression he had ever made, and he'd made a  **lot** of bad ones.

Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, fu—

There was a tug at his arm again and then a warm hand on his cheek. Worried eyes traveled down once more and were met with calm, cool green.

"It's ok, Soul. It's alright," Maka whispered before she smiled warmly and kissed him on the nose.

"Papa," her voice lowered as she turned to face her father. "This is my boyfriend, Soul."

She leaned over to grab the pad and pen from the nearby kitchen counter, writing an introduction for a mortified Soul.

_This is my papa, Spirit Albarn._

Thick hands began signing wildly and the poor albino looked panicked all over again. He huffed and puffed and was pleading with his eyes, but Maka couldn't understand. She held up her hands to try and placate him, offering him the writing utensils so he could join the conversation.

The pen flew across the paper as he scribbled out an embarrassed apology.

**_I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm SO SORRY!_ **

"Do I get to join in this conversation, or is this between the two of you?" Spirit groused. His arms were crossed and he scowled like a petulant child.

"You  **shouldn't even be here**! I am on a date!" Maka yelled back

Soul held the writing pad in front of Maka, red faced and sheepish.

**_Maybe I should go?_ **

_No! You stay! HE is leaving!_

"Papa, you need to go. I will call you later."

Tears glistened in blue green eyes. The blond couldn't be sure if they were of gratitude or disappointment at being kicked out (though he should have been used to the latter), and she didn't feel particularly interested regardless.

"I just wanted to see you, you know. You're my little girl. I miss you…"

"If you want to see me, then you call me first!" Maka grumbled.

"When I call, you don't answer. And I've been worried about you. I hear from Black*Star that you have a new boyfriend and…and you're my little girl! I want to know you're being treated right!" Spirit's voice softened as he spoke, though his eyes hardened as he glared at the alabaster giant that stood passively behind his daughter.

Maka held out her hand and Soul tentatively took hold, gingerly pulling her closer to him. His eyes never left Spirit's. His posture was neutral, but there was still a threat that lingered in his ruby orbs.

"He just defended me against somebody he thought was going to hurt me. And he let you go because I told him that you were ok, even though I wouldn't have minded seeing him pummel you in the face! Do you really think he doesn't treat me right? And even if he didn't, do you really think that  **you're**  the one to teach him?" she whispered harshly as she leaned into Soul's body, trembling in her anger.

Spirit opened his mouth to speak but held his tongue as he considered her words.

"Why doesn't he speak?" he asked. An abrupt change of subject.

Maka clutched at the arm that had wrapped around her, glancing upward at the man who held a steadfast gaze with her papa. She contemplated her answer before speaking.

"He's deaf, papa. But I think he's said all you'll ever need to hear from him. Don't you?"

Spirit held out his hand for a moment, retracting it before he had the chance to be rejected further. He took in the visage of his daughter, then of the great white behemoth (with the sharpest fucking teeth he'd ever seen…what the fuck!?), and then of the two of them together. Together.

"He loves you," Spirit whispered, barely audible.

Emerald eyes widened in disbelief.

"Papa! He—"

Cool blue met fiery red, the nostrils of both males flared and chests rose and fell as they both breathed. A silent battle of will and possession. A fight over a woman unaware.

Spirit's squared shoulders dropped, eyes once again wet with tears, though this time there was a sadness there. One Maka had not seen since her mother had left him. Left her. And those blue, blue eyes stared so intensely at Soul, she was sure some sort of dam was about to burst and drown them all.

He strode over to the couple, taking note of how Soul protectively squeezed his baby girl, stared him straight in the eye, and spoke once more.

"Hey, octopus head. You take care of her."

And with a single kiss to Maka's forehead, he turned and exited the apartment.


	16. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! I bring you a new chapter! Totally love it. It's adorable. This chapter is heavy on internet messenger interaction! Coming up with Maka's messenger handle was easy, Soul's was harder, because I had so many ideas. Super happy with what I chose, though :D Enjoy!

Maka clung to Soul's arm as she watched her father leave. Her anger left with him. Disentangling herself from her white knight, she walked to the door and placed her hand on it. Never before had she been upset to see her father go, but presently she felt bereft and without direction. She turned back to her boyfriend, offered him a sad smile, and started to rifle through the bags of food that had luckily remained unscathed during the earlier altercation.

"Come on, let's eat," Maka murmured and began pulling out plates and utensils.

Soul retrieved his phone from his pocket, sending a quick message to her. She picked up the device, bright red once more as she read the message.

**_I brought a big cock to share, if you want some._ **

Maka gaped at him only to burst into hysterical laughter when he looked at her, bewildered. His eyes flicked towards his phone and he groaned as he tried to hide his face in his hands. He typed another quick message to her, but it was too late. She was on the floor convulsing and crying as the ridiculousness of the situation hit her full force.

"Oh sweet DEATH! Ahahaha! Cock to share! You beat up my papa! You  **beat up**  my dad!" she howled and pounded her fist on the floor. It was reminiscent of the great cartoons of the 90s.

The gasping blonde heaved her torso off the floor to find crimson eyes pinned on her. His smile, sharp and broad, warmed her insides and caused the butterflies to flutter about again. She took the hand he offered and hugged him tightly when she was back on her feet.

Soul inhaled sharply, strong arms carefully encircling her, lips pressing to the top of her head. A deep rumble reverberated in his chest. A noise of contentment. He knew, deep down, that these were the sounds of an animal, a feral cur. But he couldn't help himself. She did not sign and he hoped she understood that he was happy.

The two parted and Maka returned to doling out their dinner. A quick trip to the fridge revealed the gift Soul had stored there for them to share. A 2 liter of Coke. Maka swallowed the laughter that threatened to bubble out of her, effervescent as the drink she poured, and brought Soul his meal before she settled down with hers.

Computers were spread out over the coffee table and things were a bit crowded, but neither seemed to mind. There was a practiced ease to their dance, even though this was new to them both.

Maka opened up her messenger, ready to delve into the heart of their time together this evening. She had food, drink, and good company, and now it was time for fun!

**LadyLexicon: How is everything? Good?**

Judging by the way he was unceremoniously shoveling food into his maw, she didn't need to ask.

**Steinwaii: It's all great :) I don't eat Thai often…never found a good place. This is some great take out, though.**

Soul hesitated a moment before glancing Maka's way, and then began typing furiously, fingers flying over the keyboard.

**Steinwaii: I really am sorry about what happened with your dad. Cool guys don't do things like that. I know you hate it when I act like such a…meathead. I just…I thought he was going to hurt you. I don't know what happened to me.**

Maka held her gaze on the computer screen. She was afraid to look at him, to discover what sort of feelings she might find in those insanely expressive eyes.

" _He loves you…"_ her father's voice whispered in the back of her mind. But there was no way. He couldn't. It was too soon…wasn't it?

**LadyLexicon: You don't have to be sorry, Soul. It's true, I don't like it when you act like a boorish oaf. But this was different. Nobody had insulted you, nobody insulted me. You thought I was going to be hurt. I can't even give you the "I can take care of myself!" speech, because I don't think you were wrong.**

**Violent as it may have been, you didn't hurt my papa any. And even if you had, I'm not so sure I would have been terribly upset about it -_-**

**Steinwaii: Why do you hate him so much?**

Maka practically pounded on her keyboard as she responded.

**LadyLexicon: Because he's a disgusting, dirty reptile, and he cheated on my mama! It's his fault she's not here anymore.**

Though he was tempted to delve deeper, Soul considered the Medusian glare that had been aimed at Spirit earlier. Now was not the time to poke that bear.

**Steinwaii: I understand. Family is complicated.**

**Lady Lexicon: Why don't you ever talk about yours?**

Soul had picked his plate back up and was contemplatively chewing on a mouthful of rice and noodles. Though he really leaned towards a natural impulsiveness and had an inclination towards snark, he was always cautious about the discussion of family. Whether it was his own or somebody else's.

He set his now empty plate off to the side and gave Maka an answer that he knew she would understand and accept.

**Steinwaii: The same reason you don't talk about yours. Too many painful memories.**

Maka nodded sagely before turning the conversation in a different direction.

**LadyLexicon: How are things at the shop?**

She had learned early on that Soul was a business owner. The proprietor and primary mechanic of Red Scythe Bikes in downtown Death City.

It had initially amused her, since he wasn't exactly what she would call a "people person."

He had a strange affinity for motorcycles. It wasn't so much he was a gearhead, but since he could not hear, being a professional musician was no longer an option for him. Regardless of his understanding of music theory and his great love for intricate chord structure and crunchy dissonance, without the ability to hear his creations, he could never be satisfied.

And so, with the help of Oni (of all the creepy goblin people), he had opened up Red Scythe.

**Steinwaii: The riding season is just about over, but I've got a rush on some bikes that people want winterized. A few need general tune ups, and I've got a couple of custom orders waiting on me. All in all, it's pretty busy, considering.**

**And I know you're stalling.**

**LadyLexicon: I don't know what you're talking about!**

**Steinwaii: Yes you do! Small talk is nice, but you know a lot of this stuff already. I wanna know more about Maka. Like…what's your favorite color?**

The tiny blonde scowled at him, though it was largely in jest. She didn't know how he managed to read her so easily, but he did.

Maka was going to tell him her favorite color was purple, which had been true…until she met one Soul Evans.

**LadyLexicon: Red. Almost ruby. Too light and things get too pink, too dark, and you lose the vibrancy. What about yours?**

Soul didn't hesitate at all, staring unabashed into her face as he responded.

**Steinwaii: Green. Like moss.**

The tips of Maka's ears turned scarlet and she had to force herself to look away from him. Damn him for being so romantic! He didn't even know he was doing it! Did he?

**Steinwaii: What's your middle name?**

**LadyLexicon: I am not telling you that!**

A knowing half smile made its way across Soul's face and he tipped his head at her.

**Steinwaii: Oh now I have to know! It must be awful!**

**LadyLexicon: SOUL!**

**Steinwaii: Awww, come on! Look, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And I can promise you that there is no way it is worse than mine.**

Maka scowled, but nodded her acquiescence.

**LadyLexicon: On three, yeah?**

Her boyfriend looked sickeningly giddy. She held up her hand, counted to three, and they both hit enter.

**LadyLexicon: Calpurnia**

**Steinwaii: Winchester**

**LadyLexicon/Steinwaii: That is really unfortunate…**

**LadyLexicon: HEY! Calpurnia is better than _Winchester_!**

**Steinwaii: That is a lie and you fucking know it!**

Maka hung her head, dejected. He was right. Calpurnia was absolutely atrocious. Her papa was the one that read to her and had instilled her love of books…but it was her mother who had chosen the name from To Kill a Mockingbird.

**Steinwaii: Maka Calpurnia Albarn…death on a doorknob. How did that even happen!? I have never met anybody that legitimately had a worse middle name than mine. Like, never. Never ever…never.**

Soul was practically trembling with glee. Maka wanted to sock him right in his handsome, smug face. She made the far better choice of gritting her teeth as she wrote back.

**LadyLexicon: Before I was born, papa would read to me…or to mama, depending on how you think about it. To Kill a Mockingbird was mama's favorite, and she liked the name Calpurnia.**

**Steinwaii: Wait, so…you could have been Harper, or Scout, or even Lee in order to reference the book, but your mom chose Calpurnia? O.o**

**LadyLexicon: Shut up -_-**

**Steinwaii: That is so amazing. I can't even handle it! I don't think I have ever been so happy! :D :D :D**

**LadyLexicon: Oh you are just the worst sort of person! Where the hell did Winchester come from? Some famous musician?**

Soul's eyes connected with hers yet again, fiery and alight with mirth and mischief. He wasn't the least bit ashamed at this point.

**Steinwaii: My father loved M*A*S*H*. He thought Major Winchester was hysterical. My brother had already gotten Emerson for his middle name, so I lucked out with Winchester.**

**LadyLexicon: That is just diabolical…**

**Steinwaii: And yet, still not as horrific as Calpurnia.**

**LadyLexicon: Oh my GOD, SHUT UP!**

**Steinwaii: So, what's your favorite book?**

**LadyLexicon: It's not To Kill a Fucking Mockingbird, I'll tell you that goddamn much!**

It was Soul's turn to fall on the floor in a cacophonous, giggling heap.


	17. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 17...had a hard time with this one. It has been written (in my head) for months, but I had difficulty with actively writing it down. It's...sad. It really tugged at me, and it's not even real. Broke my heart that I even thought of it. This is an emotionally heavy chapter, but I hope you appreciate and enjoy it

Maka rested comfortably against Soul's chest, eyes focused on Robin Williams as he extoled the wonders of the literary universe. They had each gotten to choose their favorite movie to show the other. She had chosen Dead Poets Society. He had gone with The Green Mile. It was one of her favorite movies as well, and it was a rare occasion in which Soul was the surprised one.

His was watched first for the simple fact that Maka knew she wouldn't be able to sleep if that's what they finished with. Soul gave no objections, and gave fewer still watching a movie she could feel he had no real interest in. He watched because she enjoyed it, and so he would try to do the same. Besides, what did he have to complain about? She had practically melted atop him like a pat of butter, her nose pressed into his neck, thumb idly stroking his jaw.

And then all the warmth in his chest disappeared as she sat up. He watched in confused silence as she reached for her phone and began tapping away, straddling has lap as if it weren't deliciously suggestive. The horny teenage boy that had never really died out in him made a brief appearance and his hips tipped upwards.

She ignored it.

He swiped up his own device when the lights skittered and danced on it. Obviously it was a text from her. The only other person that texted him on a regular basis was Black*Star, and he'd been told to fuck off for the night, under threat of imminent death.

_What is sex like for you?_

He blinked, looked up at his girlfriend, back at his phone, and barked out a laugh. His laugh was silenced when his motion unintentionally caused her to bounce on top of him. Down boy.

**_It's the same as it is for everybody else. I like it. It feels good._ **

She shook her head at him, dissatisfied with the answer.

_No, I mean…you can't hear anything that's going on. So how do you agree on what you're doing? Stopping and starting?_

Soul returned his phone to the table before gently grabbing hers and setting it alongside. And then he was sitting up, up, up, and somehow, some way, she was pressed into the couch beneath him, dwarfed by his bulk. A gentle kiss was placed on her lips before he grew more insistent, a large hand sneaking beneath the small of her back to pull her closer.

Maka's palm rested against his collarbone, happy to respond to him until he pushed a little too hard. There was steady pressure against him, and Soul moved away without an ounce of protest, casually retreating to the other side of the couch. He was not concerned or insulted, he simply watched as the gears turned in Maka's head. She preferred to try things herself versus being told. She'd said so herself.

He grinned a bit as he watched her eyebrows work. She was so expressive when she was thinking something out, and the ashen lines practically danced on her forehead as she calculated and considered. When they practically disappeared into her hairline, Soul knew she had at least figured out a piece of the puzzle. Damn if her intelligence wasn't sexy as hell. Maka was a nerd, but she was  _his_  nerd, and he was having some damn good fun.

She crawled back over to him, cautious, but unafraid, stretching out over him as he had done to her. He only watched, a self-satisfied half smirk playing over his features. When she kissed him, he sighed and sank further into the couch cushions. A hand coming to rest against his cheek made his own rise to rest on her hip and an appreciative rumble slipped from his lips and against her mouth.

The movie was forgotten.

Hands were roaming and skin was being nipped at, fingers were curling into clothing. It was torturous and wonderful and so incredibly, nostalgically, blissfully juvenile. A shudder coursed through him when she sucked on his earlobe and her hips twitched over him when sharp teeth pinched the swell of her shoulder.

Maka wanted more. More, more, more. There was not nearly enough Soul available for her to grab, and she started to tug at his shirt. She was startled into stillness when he grabbed her wrists. Moss eyes settled on ruby, the fire that had raged in those eyes just moments before completely snuffed out. His expression was plaintive and regretful.

"Oh God! You don't…you don't want…"

She couldn't finish her sentence. The idea that he didn't want her made her sick, and she all but flew off of him to try and retreat to safety. But Soul was already too good at reading her, and she didn't make it beyond the arm of the couch before he had grabbed her and pulled her against his body. She was tense and stiff, and he held her so tightly, strong arms encircling her.

"Stop."

A low voice drifted past her ear. Her tears stopped as embarrassed grief blossomed into confusion.

"Please don't be angry."

There it was again. Sorrowful, apologetic, deep and velvety against her skin.

She made an attempt to turn and Soul obediently released her. His head was turned to the side, hands roughly being shoved in his pockets as he slouched. Maka had seen him stand this way before, when he was feigning indifference or was just feeling lazy. But this was not indifference. He was upset. He was upset and she was upset…and confused.

"You talk," she whispered dumbly.

He didn't look at her. Her hands reached up to him to turn his head and make him look her in the eye.

"You talk," she said again.

He only nodded.

"Can you…hear me?" she was hopeful. Even if he had lied (and it would have been a big ass lie), she wanted him to say yes.

Soul's hand covered the one on his cheek as he slowly, sadly shook his head no. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips, chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

"I wasn't born deaf, Maka," he spoke with great care. "I could hear until I was thirteen. "

She said nothing, only watched as his mouth moved. Is this how he felt when he tried to lip read? She could hear him, but didn't feel she understood.

"I know what words sound like. I know how to form them, how to say them…but I've never…I've never been a big talker. Not even before the…before I couldn't…" he trailed off. "I don't even know what I sound like."

_Lost._

Gentle fingers pushed pale bangs out of his eyes and Maka considered her next words carefully. Only one word was uttered.

"How?"

Soul's hands dropped away from her, raising to roughly rub his upper arm before slipping into his hair to scrub at it idly. He was uncomfortable.

So was she.

With another deep breath, he hauled his shirt over his head. For a brief moment Maka was blinded by the lines of hard muscle and tan skin. And then she saw it. A jagged, gnarly scar that made its way from his left shoulder down to his right hip.

Sweet death.

Furtive glances fell on Maka, watching, waiting. Soul had revealed his scar many times to varying degrees of reactions. Most often he was met with fear or disgust. He was prepared for rejection. He expected rejection. He should have known better.

Maka never did what was expected of her. Her eyes fell to the scar and ever so carefully she began reaching out. A glance was cast upwards, asking tacit permission to touch, and when he didn't shift away from her, soft fingers alighted on puckered tissue.

"How?" she asked again.

This time Maka wasn't being nosy. She wasn't being pushy or rude. She wasn't asking because she was simply curious. She was asking because she cared. He wanted to give his simple two word stock answer, but knew he couldn't. She deserved more than that. She was worth more than two words that lacked real explanation.

"We were on our way home from the symphony. Mom, dad, Wes, and me," he swallowed the lump in his throat. "It was raining, slick. We came around a corner and there was a motorcycle. I don't know if it hit a rock, or slid, or…I don't remember."

Soul refused to cry, but Maka could not. Her fingers twitched against his scar and she pressed her tearstained face to his chest. He continued to speak, though his arms curled back around her, seeking comfort of his own.

"I only remember waking up in the hospital. I…glass from one of the windows had cut me, and a spring or rod from one of the seats went through my jaw and into my ear. It destroyed everything…nothing to repair. My brain kept swelling and putting too much pressure on the other eardrum. It kept bursting. Too much scar tissue for an implant," his voice was shaking and he squeezed her.

He would not cry.

She said nothing, only waited.

"I was put in a medically induced coma for three months, to try and control the swelling, minimize the chance of brain damage. Depending on who you ask, I'm either a miracle or some sort of farce," Soul laughed ruefully.

Maka didn't know what to do, what to say. She didn't know if he was finished, if he wanted to stay or leave. She just hugged him and he stroked her hair and held her tightly.

"When I woke up I was still on a ventilator. Couldn't speak, definitely couldn't hear. I don't know what freaked me out more. It took three rounds of sedatives before I was able to be still enough to be told that my family was dead."

Maka went stiff in his arms. He spoke so nonchalantly, as if it didn't matter that he had suddenly become a sibling-less orphan. But she knew the truth, felt it in the way he held her that he was breaking inside.

For a long time they stood there, embracing each other. His cheek rested against the top of her head, her face hidden against his sternum. It was peaceful and quiet, and Soul felt something in his broken heart mend.

"I should go home," he murmured against her hair.

She shook her head and dared to look up at him for the first time in a while, eyes puffy and red.

"It's too late for you to go home. Stay."

"Maka, I don't think I can…"

She smacked his arm and laughed before raising one of his hands to kiss it.

"Just to sleep, you perv!"

That lopsided grin of his lit up his face once more, and he quietly followed her to her bedroom.


	18. Careless Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Y'all want long chapters, here is a LONG ASS chapter. And guess what? Sex! There's sex! And it took FOREVER to write because I was trying to be extra thoughtful in this instance. Hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Don't get too used to Soul speaking, btw. That's just not who he is. Never has been :)

Maka had opted to turn on one of the bedside lamps in her room, not wanting to ruin the comforting mood that she and Soul had eased into. The glow of the bulb that filtered through the lampshade softly illuminated the lines of his face, jaw and neck blanketed in shadow. His shirt remained on the floor of the living room, and Maka was glad for it. He was beautiful to look at. She wondered what he would sound like when he…

"Are you sure you want me to stay?"

She started a little, unused to the timbre of his voice. She was still grappling with the knowledge that he even  _had_  a voice. But she had known from the beginning that he wasn't born deaf. He had never lied about that.

It was still a bit too dark in the room for him to be able to read her lips so she nodded and pressed a kiss to his chin. Her hands reached up to trace the edges of his collarbones, slowly drawing down the center line of his chest before her palms pressed flat to his stomach. The lines of his abs were relatively well defined and the muscle was hard beneath. He was neither too much nor too little for her.

Soul was wonderfully, beautifully, disgustingly perfect. He never moved away from her, didn't slouch, didn't avoid. He seemed almost irritatingly proud as she explored. She hated it and loved it. And she really loved the way his hip bones peeked out of the tops of his pants.

Her perusal was interrupted by Soul bowing his head to steal another kiss. It was sweet and chaste, an offer of gratitude and appreciation. His thumbs drew across her cheekbones and he smiled at her before placing more kisses along her forehead and her cheeks. Maka couldn't help but smile back, her hands reaching up to wrap her fingers around his wrists and squeeze lightly.

She didn't understand how people were afraid of him. She saw how they avoided him when they walked down the street together, how uneasy others were when he interacted with them, how mothers clutched their children tighter when he walked by. He had told her early on that as a child he had been called "Soul Eater," because he looked like a demon.

The truth belied his appearance. And if he was a demon, he was welcome to corrupt her any way he wished.

Soul's hands were pulled away from her face and placed against the hem of her vest. Thick fingers twitched reflexively and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. When the digits curled further into the material and he began sliding his hands upward, she didn't stop him. Her arms raised over her head and the garment was pulled away, her fingers dropping to make quick work of the buttons on her blouse. It fluttered noiselessly to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a simple white bra that was lightly decorated with rainbow polka dots.

Maka was not into "sexy" lingerie. She was more the "cute" type. Soul had no problem with that.

Though the urge to cover herself was strong, she stood as tall and proud as he did. She hated her small breasts and he hated his sharp teeth. Of course she had noticed the veritable daggers in his mouth, but it had never mattered to her. Of course he noticed her small chest, but he only wanted to see it more closely. And now he was.

Calloused fingers skimmed along porcelain skin, up her arms over her shoulders, and then they flitted away to rest back on her hips. He wouldn't touch without her permission and satisfied himself by stroking the small of her back. Such inaction was not acceptable to Maka, and she pointedly took his hands and moved them higher.

A cacophonous rolling rumble thundered in his chest as he took the hint, the back of his hands brushing cloth covered mounds. Closed eyes and lips parted in what he assumed was a sigh made him bolder and he slipped his hands to the back of her bra, stroking at the clasp. A nuzzle against her ear brought Maka back to earth, to fiery eyes asking her allowance to continue. Another nod of acknowledgement that it was ok to continue and she stood bare breasted in the glow of the lamplight.

Soul practically felt his brain stop, hands reaching out without his permission to caress satin skin. His brain rebooted when he noticed she had leaned into his hands and felt her shudder as he palmed and squeezed and toyed with pliable mounds. He couldn't hear the breathy sounds she made, couldn't understand the words forming on her shadowed lips, but he knew she was pleased. He was pretty happy, too.

They were in an equal state of undress now, an equal state of vulnerability. Neither had any intention of stopping, and each reached out to the other. Maka's fingers hooked into Soul's belt loops, and Soul's fingers found the zipper of her skirt. It wasn't until a soft kiss was placed in the hollow of her throat that she was able to release the belt loops and find the button of his pants to open them. It was a bit of a struggle, what with his tongue tracing light patterns against her neck, but she managed.

The sound of zippers being drawn down was deafening to her ears, but of course, he wouldn't notice. He only watched as the skirt fell away, casually stepping out of his own pants, as if this wasn't a nerve wracking experience. As if he did this all the time.

Did he? How many women had he slept with? Not that that was any of her business. It wasn't as if she was some innocent virgin. He could sleep with whoever he wanted whenever he wanted.

"Maka," he whispered at her. Even when he whispered it made her toes curl. "It's ok. We're just going to sleep, right?"

It was then she realized how truly tired she was. Tired and…comfortable. She'd never undressed in such a manner before, slow and sensual with no clear goal of sex in mind. It was terrifying and exciting, refreshing and mystifying.

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips and she turned away from him to crawl into her bed. She was still underwear clad, utilitarian black cotton covering her, and he was in boxers with, of all things, frogs on them (what the hell?). Even with both of them near naked, and with a faint flicker of desire prickling at their skin, they really wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.

She took up residence on her side of the bed, he fell in behind, and without a moment's hesitation she was pulled against his torso, a hand resting over her stomach. Soul was so many things, she knew, but the reiteration of protection and possession was obvious by the way he spooned her.

She reached out to turn out the light, stomach churning as she heard her father's words in her head once more, trying to shake them off as she gently squeezed the hand that rested on her belly.

* * *

A belligerent bellowing and the wild twisting of her sheets woke Maka from what had been a sound and pleasant sleep. Blurred eyes cleared in a rush as she watched a white giant storm about her room. He stopped for a brief moment, head bowed, clawing at his ears and practically howling in his distress. She was up and out of bed in an instant, hastily turning on the lamp and tripping on sheets in the process, landing in a heap on the floor. Her knee smashed against the bed frame and she cursed, struggling to get up and attempt to help the bawling man that thrashed so desperately.

He sounded more like an angry bull than a human, but when she finally stood across from him, arm outstretched, he saw her. He saw her but there was no recognition, only confusion and anguish. It broke her heart. Shattered like glass.

"Where are they?" he asked. His voice was quiet and laced with anxiety. "I can't hear…why can't I hear?!"

Jesus Christ. He wasn't awake! Not completely, anyway.

Maka crossed the room confidently, placing a gentle hand on his arm and directing him to sit back on the bed. She was looking at a grown man, but she was interacting with a child. A confused, lost, scared child in the body of a 29 year old man. He could hurt her, but wasn't cognizant of it. She was, and didn't care.

"You stay right here, ok? Just stay right here, I will be right back!" she made the gesture for him to just sit and wait as she ran into the kitchen to grab her pen and paper. She returned to Soul huddled on her bud, knees hugged to his chest, chin resting on top. He was trying to quell his shaking, but could not.

"Where are they?" the inquiry came again, louder this time.

How was she supposed to explain this? He already knew…but he didn't know. How was she supposed to tell him that he had no family left? How could she destroy him like that? There was no good way.

_You were in a car accident, Soul. You don't remember?_

**_No._ **

_There was a motorcycle. It hit your family's car. Tore you up._

A hand was placed over his scar, rubbing gently.

"A motorcycle…it came through the windshield. It…killed them," he blinked back tears as Maka wrote on the pad again.

_Do you know who I am, Soul?_

A blank stare was leveled at her before he blinked slowly. The haze was clearing, a gruff rattle pushing from his lungs as he reached across the bed to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Maka?"

She nodded.

"Did I hurt you?" he murmured, afraid of the answer.

She shook her head and leaned over to kiss him on the nose, fingers entwining with his.

"I'm sorry, I...night terrors…"

He was silenced with a kiss. There was a notable heat behind it, but she had to let him know that she wasn't angry, upset, or afraid. She had been worried, was still worried, but he had nothing to apologize for. When he kissed her back it was most certainly not the sort of kiss a thirteen year old boy would have attempted. Not by a long shot.

Fire seared her bones and flared in her groin and she grabbed at him, trying to get closer. They were both practically naked and he was in her bed and she was wanting, but he stopped her.

"Is this really what you want, Maka? Because I am a broken man. Just pieces," he spoke against her skin.

She pulled back to look at him, fingers stroking through sweaty, moonlit bangs.

"I'm broken, too."

His forehead pressed to hers and he raised her hands to his lips, kissing each individual knuckle. He kissed the inside of her wrists, her forearms, along her jaw, and when he finally captured her mouth again, he felt their worlds collide. She was porcelain and silk and smooth curves that counteracted callous, caustic, rough edges, and he was snark and sarcasm and truth that balanced a serious, studious bookworm. She lit him up and he offered shadow when things were just too bright to stand.

When he had her laid out beneath him, he took his time running his hands along the swell of her hips and over the peaks of her breasts. He did not pinch or tweak but instead grazed his thumbs over her nipples. Maka's eyes had closed, but he watched her. He watched as her back arched towards him, watched her lips fall apart as he sucked on a perfectly pink bud, watched as her fingers sought his hair to gently stroke and ground herself.

Soul was in no rush at all, happy to watch as her body flushed pink, blossoming at her neck and winding its way down her body. She was so beautiful to him, and he was determined to show her. He wanted her legs to shake and her brain to melt with the knowledge of what he felt for her. He was in love and it was far too late for him to try and stop it.

Maka was trying to keep still under the ministrations of sharp teeth and brilliant tongue, but he was making it difficult. What she really wanted was to take off her underwear, which had formed an uncomfortable and embarrassing wet spot in the crotch. She whined and rolled her hips against his stomach, but he whispered for her to be still.

That made her wetter.

He was kind enough to oblige her and slip his fingers beneath her panties to tease her a bit. She was more than ready, slick and hot, but he waited. His middle finger circled around her clit once, twice, and then sank into her oh so slowly. Maka had opened her eyes to watch his hand work beneath her underwear and she could feel him watching her. It unnerved her a little, but she was easily distracted by the finger that crooked inside her.

She was whimpering and panting and undulating against his hand, and it was the sexiest goddamn thing he had seen in years. It took all Soul had not to blow it like an unpracticed teenager. His resolve was nearly crushed when a deft hand reached into his boxers and stroked him. He hunched, grunted, snorted, and then glared at the super smug blonde stretched out beneath him.

He threw a sign at her, knowing she wouldn't understand it, and she squeezed the base of his cock and gave the skin there a gentle twist before stroking back up again. He choked on air. Sweet death was she good with her hands. Although, according to the way she bit her lip and pressed his hand against her center, he wasn't doing too badly himself.

Maka couldn't take it anymore. She needed him  _now_  and she was tired of waiting. There had been more than enough waiting. She pulled at his wrist and he removed his finger without complaint, simply waiting for her next move. She shucked off her underwear and looked back and forth between his face and his crotch, clearly wanting him to do the same.

He chuckled, this time speaking as he signed to her.

"So impatient."

She huffed indignantly, hips twitching in clear invitation. He RSVP'd by settling between her legs and dragging the flat of his tongue along her core. His reward was a mass of horny woman nearly flying off the bed. Soul repeated the action and watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her fingers curled in the bed sheets.

That's what he wanted to see.

When his tongue started gingerly tracing the letters of the alphabet against her clit, Maka nearly lost her mind. She really,  _really_  loved the letter S. S was officially the best letter that had ever existed in the history of language. Her favorite words from now on would fucking start with the letter s, and she told Soul such. He couldn't hear her words, but the way she bowed and arced beneath him was all the information he needed.

He had never quit watching her. She just hadn't opened her eyes to see, and that was ok with him. He knew she would eventually. In the meantime, he hummed his contentment against her, lightly sucking at the swollen bud between her legs. Her hands fisted in his hair and she was reduced to a quivering, panting mess. Each roll of her hips was higher than the last, and he dutifully followed her as she rose and fell like the tide.

When she came, her cheeks flushed crimson and her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth. Lithe thighs tensed and relaxed while her hands left his hair to bury in her own, leaving her completely open to his view. Soul had seen a decent amount of women orgasm, either by his efforts or their own, and he appreciated the sight of all of them, but none so much as Maka.

Her hands were still tangled in flaxen strands and she trembled and twitched beneath him as he placed careful kisses along the insides of her thighs. He was content to watch her come down from her high, even as his own groin throbbed and ached with the need for release. There was no need to ask her if it was good, any fool could see she was pleased, a satisfied grin plastered on her face.

A startled yip escaped Soul when he felt something graze his erection. He looked down to see her foot sliding along his inner thigh to offer a fleeting touch. When he looked up at her face, it was his brain that practically melted. Her countenance oozed sex. Permission to take her was written all over her face and the way she had situated herself made it abundantly clear. Her arms were raised over her head, legs slightly parted, and the way she licked her lips and looked him right in the eye nearly ended it for him right there.

She was going to kill him.

When he didn't move fast enough, she sat up to tug at the waistband of his boxers, a flash of insecurity in her eyes.

"Off?"

Soul took the chance to take all of her in again. The blush of her cheeks, the glow of her skin from a light sheen of sweat, the smell of her that hung in the air that was musky and feminine and simply Maka, Maka, Maka. His mouth watered at the memory of her on his tongue just moments ago. The thought of being  _in_  her instead of just tasting her spurred him into action and he shoved of his boxers before sliding over her.

They had shared so many kisses tonight, but she swore that this time he was making the earth stand still. Deep and slow, warm and sweet, he melted like honey on her tongue, and there was nothing more decadent than him. She tasted herself, and warm breath, and spice, and lust. There was nothing left unavailable to her. When Soul looked at her she could feel herself being torn down and built back up, stronger and more resilient than before.

The light of the bedside lamp illuminated her face enough for him to see, but she was practically at a loss for words.

"I want…" she hummed at him, trying to capture his body with her hips.

A careful hand pushed her back down and stroked along her ribs.

"I want, too. But I haven't done this in awhile, so, slow, ok?"

An eager nod was sent his way. So he was a little out of practice. Fine, whatever, she just wanted him  _in_ , damn it!

She was expecting the stereotypical single thrust, which she didn't care for, but could handle…especially with his earlier success. But no, not Soul, he didn't do stereotypical. He peppered her face with kisses as his hips rocked against her, the head of his dick slipping over her still sensitive clit a time or two. He swallowed her gasp with a kiss, continuing his slow grind and sending sparks through her blood.

Holy fuck was that amazing. He was amazing.

And then she felt him, and she knew he felt her. There was a deep, low moan as Soul's hips hitched and he was surrounded by heat. His body was still over her and he took a shuddering breath to calm himself, praying to the universe that Maka would just  _be still_ , because if she moved now that would be the end of it.

He dared to prop himself up further on his forearms, surprised to see her looking right at him. There was nothing but trust and patience in those emerald orbs and he hoped he reflected the same to her. She never looked away from him, allowing him to be privy to every gasp, every bite of her lip, every flare of her nostrils. Maka wasn't ashamed to share with him.

It felt like it took forever for him to sheath himself in her, but when he had, she felt complete. When he gathered his knees beneath him and pulled her up to half sit in his lap, she felt vulnerable. Soul was suddenly impossibly deep within her, and she swore he was in her throat. He wasn't even moving and he was hitting places she'd never felt before.

She clutched at his shoulders, suddenly afraid, but he only stroked at her back and hushed her gently.

"Shhh, it's ok. I promise. Just…be here with me for a little bit, ok?"

Maka quivered in his embrace, but nodded her acquiescence, soft kisses soothing nervous feelings.

Sex was an intimate act to engage in to begin with, but with Soul there were layers. He was always building, asking for more, needing more closeness. The way he kept her pressed to his body, chest to chest unless he was kissing her, the way he latched onto her neck when he needed to taste more of her, the way he supported her to relieve the strain on her.

He had destroyed her, and she was grateful for it.

Though still hard within her, Soul had relaxed considerably. She momentarily thought he was asleep, his breath even and slow against her jaw. And she felt him stir. He was falling back and taking her along with, refusing to disengage from her. He was beneath her. She perched atop him dumbfounded, reaching back to feel his outstretched legs.

"How can you even do that?! Are you made of rubber bands?!"

Soul responded the best way he knew how, pressing up into her and pulling down on her hips.

"Fuuuuuuck…" Maka cursed, long and low and completely unapologetic.

The motion was repeated, but this time Maka followed suit and they soon found an easy rhythm that stoked a steady fire in them both. She fluttered around him and offered moans he could not hear, he gave her rattled breaths and panted groans that she definitely could. He watched her, all the time, and sometimes she watched back. He watched as he slid in and out of her, as she ground down on him, as she pitched forward with her hand between her legs to stroke herself.

Fuck, that was hot.

The last of his resolve was crumbling and a gentle push on Maka's side gave her a clear, if not brief warning that he was turning them over. She was underneath him yet again and he hitched up one of her legs to wrap it around his waist. When she tried to bring up the other he vigorously shook his head no, and she returned it to the mattress.

The leg he held up was slowly pushed towards her chest and green eyes widened exponentially as he shoved himself deeper within her. Death on a doorknob, how much deeper was there?! Her eyes rolled back in her head and she gurgled, immensely pleased and absolutely terrified at the same time. His hips had picked up speed, though his thrusts were careful and shallow. He knew exactly where he was within her, and dear god in heaven it felt so fucking good, but he wasn't going to hurt her.

Maka looked up and saw that Soul's eyes had finally closed. For the first time since they had begun this dance he wasn't focused on her, just on how he was moving, how he felt, how she made him feel. Words were pouring out of his mouth, but she didn't know if he was aware he was speaking.

"Please don't make me stop. Please, please, please. I can't…I can't, I can't, please don't ever make me stop."

He was pleading with her and she didn't know why, because the idea of asking him to stop  _this_  was fucking insanity. There was no way in fucking hell she was going to tell him to stop!

For someone who had declared he was out of practice, Soul had done a pretty decent job of keeping himself in check, but now his motions were erratic and his panting was wild and desperate. A high pitched whine stirred in his throat as he bucked and grabbed and held Maka to him, and this time she got to watch him come apart.

Soul was off in the stratosphere, crashing back down to earth as his cock throbbed and then twitched. He did not still like the men Maka had previously experienced. He rode out his orgasm with continuous rocking and the intermittent jerk of his hips as his muscles contracted. She watched his stomach tighten and relax and the way his lips pulled away from sharp teeth in a pleasured grimace. His fingertips reflexively squeezed her hips and pulled her into him.

Maka's insides were warm and full and sticky, and it was disgusting and satisfying all at the same time. She felt marked in the best sort of way, and that wasn't a thought she had ever considered before Soul. When Tsubaki had told her she felt that way after being with Black*Star for the first time she had felt repulsed. But now she understood. She understood and it still scared her, but it was a fear she was going to have to face.

Soul slipped away from her, a kiss placed to her breast before he disappeared to find the bathroom and clean up. She took the opportunity to do the same and tidy up the few things that he had knocked over during his unintentional rampage. When he returned she was already beneath the sheets, sitting up waiting for him. Her knees were tucked beneath her chin, curtain of hair spilling over her arms as she had set it loose during the early stages of their coupling.

"Hi," she smiled warmly.

He signed hello back, offered a smile of his own, and she felt warmth spread through her straight to her toes. When he slid in beside her, she reached to turn off the light, and once again under the shroud of darkness, she curled up into him. This time she placed her head beneath his chin and threw her thin arm over his torso, hugging as much of him as she could.

He stroked her hair for a few minutes, waiting for her breathing to level out. When it finally fell steady and slow against his neck, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and whispered to her.

"I love you, Maka."

"I love you too, Soul."

But he didn't hear it.


	19. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter starts with sex, has no real substance, just wanted to write it :P

The morning dawned grey and still, a slight chill in the air of the bedroom. And yet, Maka woke surrounded by warmth, contentment having settled heavily in her chest with a pleasantly heady ache still pulsing in her groin. Her cheek rested in the crook of a tan neck, fingers splayed out over the top of a broad ribcage, and she sighed before daring to flick her eyes upwards.

There was no trace of the frantic adolescent boy she had met last night. The man she looked at was relaxed and at ease. His lips were parted and his chest rose and fell in steady, silent breaths. The distress he had felt last night had clearly abated, though Maka wondered how often he had those nightmares. How he could stand having them plague him so.

Her fingers traced the line of his jaw to drag along coarse stubble before slipping up over the shell of his ear and into alabaster locks to stroke gently. This action earned her a soft moan and she squeaked as the hand that had been wrapped around her shoulders sprang to life, pulling her into his body. Was he still asleep? A luxurious stretch of his legs and the inward bow of his back told her that no, he was most definitely not asleep.

Soul had rolled over halfway to meet her, carmine eyes fluttering open. Maka was held securely in his embrace, gentle fingers stroking along the soft skin of her back as a disgustingly self-satisfied smirk graced his features. She couldn't help but smile back, her own digits sinking back into silken strands. Soul loved it when she touched his head, and was unashamed of the veritable purring that escaped him when she did so.

"Morning," she whispered to him.

Soul only blinked, lazy and slow. His gaze was roving now. Inspecting, appraising…calculating. His silence was almost unnerving to Maka now that she knew that he could speak. But she had to remind herself that using his voice wasn't natural anymore. He had used verbal language because he'd felt it necessary. Because she couldn't understand him and he was desperate. It had made her feel handicapped and she hadn't cared for it at all. It made her fully cognizant of how he went through his life every day, and that strengthened her resolve to learn how to sign.

A soft grunt and a nudge against the hand in his hair brought Maka back to reality. She had apparently stopped rubbing his scalp while lost in her thoughts and the man-cat in her bed didn't appreciate it. She rolled her eyes at him but returned to her petting all the same, sighing against Soul's lightly chapped lips when he kissed her.

Languid kisses quickly became unabashed groping and Soul wasted no time in crawling over her, a large hand spanning her hip. He ground against her and she hissed involuntarily. It felt exquisite, the dull pain in her hips a reminder of last night's activities, and she wanted him inside of her again. He was all too happy to oblige.

Soul blew a snort through his nostrils as he worked back into the slick heat that was Maka. He didn't bother to work in increments this time, but instead utilized a steady and continuous push, unable to hide his feral grin when Maka arched off the bed and grabbed at his forearms. Her lips were moving soundlessly and his best guess was that she was cursing. Whether it was at him or to some god he didn't believe in didn't much matter to him, he just wanted her to keep making that face.

A roll of his hips caused her walls to flutter around him, resulting in a groan that was loud and low. He repeated the action, her body followed suit, and their lovemaking found a rhythm entirely different from the previous night. This was slow and so sinfully delicious. An internal grinding that was driving Maka absolutely wild.

Morning sex, Maka thought, should always be an easy means of a quick release. But that was not an option with Soul, it seemed. She didn't know how he was doing what he was doing, but she would murder him if he stopped. He would swivel his hips and then offer a shallow but hard thrust and he was hitting that sweet spot, and oh! Jesus take the wheel, because she was losing her fucking mind!

He moaned above her and she practically wailed below him as his thrusts lengthened and increased in intensity. A particularly rough jerk of his pelvis caused her to yelp when he hit that secret little spot inside of her and she surged forward to clamp her teeth down on a pectoral muscle. What she really wanted was his neck, but that was too far out of her reach since he was a motherfucking giant.

The result of Maka's bite was a savage howl followed by Soul folding himself over her and pumping into her like a battering ram. His arms were wrapped around her lower back, biceps flexed and bulging, his breath hot in her ear as he panted. One hand left her back to claw at her sheets as he sought purchase, a means to further bury himself, claim what was his. He was close. So goddamn close! He needed…needed…what did he need!?

The pace was brutal but he didn't care. Maka could handle it. Maka  _loved_  it judging by the way she gripped his dick with her muscles and ferociously scratched at his back. When her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and he felt her teeth close around his flesh once more, he realized that had been exactly what he was after.

Stars exploded behind his eyes and his face slammed into the pillow behind Maka's head as he yowled his completion. He continued his steady rocking as he worked through his orgasm, chuffing and rumbling, and Maka, to her own extreme surprise, followed behind him. It caught her so off guard that her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, eyes wide and fingers biting into her palms. She jerked and rippled beneath him, finishing with an awkward yipping noise that she'd never made in her life.

It was the one time she was glad her boyfriend was deaf as a stone, because that was embarrassing.

When their shivering had ceased they parted from each other, Soul flopping boneless and sated against the mattress, Maka laying exposed but unashamed with a pleased smirk plastered on her face. Though she was sorely tempted to cuddle, she knew they both had to get up and start their day. She had blueprints to go over for work and a sign language lesson with Black*Star that afternoon.

Maka grappled blindly at her nightstand before her hand landed on the pen and paper she had brought in last night during Soul's meltdown. She did her best to swallow the lump in her throat when she caught sight of the things she had written to him while trying to work him through his terror. The page was hastily ripped away and crumpled up, pen scratching across the surface of a fresh piece of paper so she could direct Soul as to where he could find towels when he went to go shower.

**_You're not going to join me?_ **

He pouted at her when she shook her head no.

_I think we both know that no actual showering will be done._

The only response he had for her was a waggle of his eyebrows coupled with a devious grin.

A playful tap on the nose and the knowledge that there would be breakfast waiting for him was all the more Soul got before Maka departed from the bed, grabbing a robe from her closet and disappearing down the hallway.

When Soul emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, Maka had food waiting for him. Bacon, eggs, and some toast. The boxer clad male reached down as he crossed the living room to scoop up his t-shirt from the floor, donning it without hesitation before sitting down at the kitchen counter to dig into his meal. Maka received a happy thumbs up as Soul bit into his toast and then watched as he halted, eyes falling on a scrap of paper tucked covertly beneath his plate.

She watched ruby orbs scan the sheet in silence, fingers clasped tightly around her mug of coffee. Just waiting.

 _Warm_  
Sweet  
Deep  
Rumbling  
Soft  
Sad  
Lost  
Rough  
Kind  
Caring  
Beautiful

Soul's head dipped to the side, ivory brows furrowed in confusion. He held the paper up to Maka in inquiry, unable to suppress the comically quizzical look on his face. She scribbled an answer on her notepad, shoving it towards him.

_It's how you sound to me, Soul_

**_This is how I sound?_ **

_You said you didn't know what your voice sounds like. I wanted you to know what I hear. It's a beautiful voice._

Soul's Adam's apple dropped and rose against his throat, and he was sure that he was trying to swallow knots. His eyes fell on the paper before he looked back at Maka, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. She said nothing. A gentle hand merely reached out and covered his own large one, which pulled him out of his stupor. He finally found it within himself to sign her a simple "Thank you," and she kissed his knuckles gingerly before pressing his palm against her cheek.

Maka sipped her coffee and watched as Soul shoveled down eggs that were probably too rubbery and bacon that was undoubtedly too crispy. He smiled at her all the same, as if it was the best meal he had ever eaten in his life. She marveled at how easy it was to just be with him. That the long stretches of silence weren't deafening or uncomfortable. Silence wasn't something to be afraid of. Maka could just be with Soul, lose herself in him, in his company. And that was ok, welcome even, considering most "morning afters" were the result of one night stands. If she hadn't kicked a man out of her bed after a tryst, she was hurriedly gathering her things to escape from his place and return to her own domicile. And if that failed, there was an awkwardness that followed when she woke up the next morning that would hang in the air, heavy and thick.

She hated that.

Her father had been right, much as it disgusted her to admit it. Soul loved her. But Spirit didn't know that she loved him, too. How could he? She had only just figured it herself out a few short hours ago. Soul hadn't been able to hear her affirmation of love, but that didn't change that she had said it. Didn't change the gut wrenching fear she had from being forced to acknowledge it.

And yet, somehow, that was also ok. Even if Maka wasn't ready to say it and have Soul be truly aware of her feelings, it was enough for now to know that she had them at all. That she was capable of loving, when for the longest time she thought it was impossible.

Maka watched for a moment longer, unable to stop her lips from twitching up into a small smirk as her sweet phantom gnawed on a piece of fatty bacon. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, laughing lightly at this sheepish smile before taking another sip of coffee.

Soul was uncouth, unrefined, and downright boorish at times…but they belonged to each other.


	20. Lair of the White Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Holy shit. I started this story exactly one year ago today. Cannot believe I'm still writing it. This thing has become my goddamn baby, and I love it. Be prepared for some big shit to occur in the next couple of chapters. I do feel we're starting to near the end, but you probably have 6-7 months left worth of updates. Thank you to those of you who have stuck with this story!

Maka stood just inside the doorway of the bike shop, surrounded by chrome edged machines that stood on a variety of wheel bases. She took in the sharp edges and smooth curves of multiple silhouettes, enamored by how the atmosphere seemed to represent Soul so thoroughly.

The shop layout was relatively open so people could make their way around to view the merchandise. Exhaust pipes and wheel spokes hung on the walls, pictures of riders and various model diagrams adorning much of the space. Maka was not much a fan of motorcycles herself, finding them dangerous and a bit unnerving, but she was glad to be in the shop. To be privy to what her boyfriend surrounded himself with day in and day out.

It had taken him three months to allow her into his space, and while she was curious and frustrated, she had not pressed. Everything came in its own time with Soul. It wasn't so much that he kept secrets, she realized. Rather, they were obnoxiously similar, and he just needed time to prepare himself before he shared new parts of himself with her. He was guarded and cautious, and while that made her heart hurt a little, she also recognized that he was far more forthcoming than when they had first started dating.

Warm breath on her neck and strong arms encircling her waist startled her, and she jumped a little. She settled only when a soft nuzzle and quiet grunt assured her it was only the frosty haired giant she so adored. She leaned back into his embrace and hummed softly, fingers stroking the back of his hand before she pulled away.

"Where to?" she asked, knowing he would understand whether he read her lips or not.

It had become habit for Maka to stop by after work and they would go out for dinner or back to her place for a cozy night in. She was surprised when he locked the shop door from the inside, set the alarm, and tugged her along behind the counter and through a doorway that lead to a staircase. She didn't even think to question his actions, understanding that he tended to behave on impulse, though those impulses never lead her into any sort of danger.

They climbed a few steps and Soul pulled out another set of keys to unlock another door. There was a moment of hesitation, a question in his eyes that Maka couldn't quite read, and then he blew out a breath and opened the barrier. A soft hand on the small of her back gently pushed her inside and he followed, the soft click of the door and flick of a light switch registering in her ears.

Illuminated by the entryway light, Maka was able to take in her surroundings. The space was small, but plenty big enough for a single man. A hallway to her left lead to what was probably a bedroom and bathroom, and straight in front of her was his living room. There was nothing but a simple black couch, a TV, and a coffee table. The floors were covered in a light brown carpet that had probably seen better days, and the walls were old and yellowed with a couple of cracks here and there.

This was his apartment. Soul was letting her see where he lived.

Maka turned to him, eyebrows raised and eyes soft, hoping he understood that she was grateful. He didn't like to talk about where or how he lived, whether it was past or present. She knew why and did her best to leave it alone, even though she still had questions. If she phrased things the right way, he would open up to her a little more every time, but she had learned to be discerning about when she should try to sate her curiosity.

It seemed the door was wide open tonight.

Soul took her coat and hung it up on a hook embedded in the door, gesturing for her to go and sit if she liked. Maka stayed with him, suddenly understanding what he must have felt like when she left him alone in her apartment. She was belatedly embarrassed and leaned into his side without thinking. A soft chuckle wove around her and warmed her insides and she looked up to smile at him, an expression he returned.

When he finally moved away, it was to walk across the room to a small, worn looking upright piano. It was devoid of any music, but a notepad sat at the top, and he grabbed it. Presumably so they could converse. Maka knew he had played once upon a time, but hadn't any idea that he still kept an instrument. She was sorely tempted to ask him to play something for her, but thought better of it.

Soul handed her the notepad and pen, his awkward scrawl inquiring as to what she would like for dinner. She smiled and shrugged, asking him to surprise her. He practically beamed at those words, darting into his small kitchen that was just off the entry way. She heard the clanging of pots and pans, the opening of a refrigerator, and she couldn't help but move to peek her head in to see what he was up to.

"What are you doing?" she giggled. Not that he would notice. His head was buried in the fridge, doors opening and closing, plastic rustling as he grabbed various items.

He popped out of the cold interior to set some vegetables and a package of ground hamburger on the counter. A lopsided grin graced his features as he signed to her, and when it was clear she didn't understand his intentions, he held up a box of ziti.

"You cook?"

Merlot eyes rolled and he signed "yes" to her, which she understood. It shouldn't have been that surprising. He was a grown man, he could (and did) take care of himself. Had taken care of himself long before he'd reached adulthood. Just because she was a lousy chef didn't mean he was, and he wanted to show her what he could do. Ordering takeout or sitting at a restaurant was nice, but there was something especially intimate about cooking for the ones you loved.

Maka gestured at the vegetables, asking if she could help in some way. Normally he would have declined, but he enjoyed doing things with Maka, and Maka loved learning new things, so he acquiesced. He gently bumped her over to show her how he wanted the onions chopped before he poured some oil in a pan and set it to heating. While she chopped onions, he started water to boiling and diced mushrooms and peppers.

He was considerably faster than she was.

She hated it.

It wasn't the startled yelp that brought him to her side, but the sharp motion of her body as Maka clutched her hand against her chest. Large fingers pulled at a delicate wrist, demanding to examine her injury. It was nothing awful, but she'd sliced into the tip of her finger, and those types of cuts bled something fierce. With a smoothness Maka was all too familiar with, he slipped her over to the kitchen sink, running cold water over the cut before washing it with antibacterial soap and wrapping it in a clean dishtowel. Bandaids were pulled out of a cupboard, injured finger secured within thin gauze and adhesive, and with a soft kiss placed to her finger, Soul went back to preparing dinner.

Moss eyes blinked at the gentle giant who had taken such quick care of her, and she blushed at his protectiveness. It had been a simple wound, but in less than two minutes he had shown her more care than…well, than anybody ever had. It made her heart swell to the point of pain that he loved her so much. She wondered if she loved him enough. She wondered if he knew her feelings at all, because she was still too afraid to share them in a way that would allow him to see.

She was a coward.

A gentle nudge to her shoulder and she was brought back to earth. Red eyes watched her, concerned, even as one of his hands busied itself with stirring vegetables in a hot pan.

"I'm ok, Soul."

He looked doubtful.

"Really," she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I'm ok."

A gentle nod and slight quirk of his lips marked his acceptance of her answer. Soul pointed at the box of ziti on the counter and then to the boiling water on the stove, miming to pour it in. Maka complied, but when he found himself running her hand under the cold tap again because she'd burned herself, he banned her to the living room for the remainder of his cooking time. He loved her, and wanted to see her live long enough to actually taste what they were making.

Dejected but understanding, Maka sulked her way into the adjoining room, sinking down onto his shabby couch. She allowed the smells of cooking meat and roasting vegetable waft into her nostrils, listening as the pot of pasta bubbled away. She heard a clank or a click every now and again as pots were shifted and cupboards were opened, and soon enough the din of domesticity had her relaxed enough to begin drifting off to sleep.

Eyelids heavy and mind clear, she allowed her drowsiness to overtake her. No longer concerned or surprised by how unequivocally comfortable she felt as long as Soul was near.


	21. Piece of My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming. I am not entirely happy with it, but needed to post something. Something is missing here, but I'm not quite sure what. Ah well.
> 
> I did get a couple of questions that I wanted to answer for people.
> 
> Soul's lip reading isn't perfect. Nobody's is. It's as much an art as a science. That said, Soul can pick up on speech patterns fairly easily, and if something Maka says to him doesn't make sense, he can rather quickly piece together what she meant. It's simply a matter of common sense and inference. Maka, for her part, tries not to use overly long sentences when she speaks to him verbally. Her answers are kept as short as possible, to minimize any chance of misunderstanding.
> 
> Somebody asked why I don't have Soul go to the doctor with Maka to find out the scar tissue has healed so he can get a hearing aid. The answer is because it is completely unrealistic and that's not how scar tissue works. Soul is stone cold deaf, and will remain that way. Being deaf is a handicap, not a death sentence. Ther is nothing wrong with being deaf, and while Soul still has his moments of depression being unable to hear, overall he has accepted his hearing loss.
> 
> Enough blabbing from me! Enjoy!

Maka woke up surrounded by the scent of musk and motor oil. A pillow was hugged to her chest and an ever present warmth was pressed against her back. When she turned to view her company, bright red eyes were there waiting for her.

She screamed and promptly fell to the floor.

"Goddamn it, Soul!"

He was laughing at her, loud and raucous, a hand resting over his belly as he gasped. Terrible as it was, one of his favorite things to do was startle her. She was always so disoriented when she woke up, and if he was prepared, he could get her good.

He didn't stop laughing even when the pillow she had been clutching hit him in the face. She, however, did stop scowling when he reached over to the coffee table and offered her some food. Her eyes lit up as she realized it was the dinner they had made together. Well, the dinner she had attempted to help with, anyway.

"I guess I wasn't out long then," she murmured.

A soft hum slipped from her lips, eyes closing in bliss as flavor exploded across her tongue. Soul only smiled as he watched her eat, legs tucked beneath her as she leaned against the couch she had so ungracefully fallen from. His fingers gently pulled through her hair, tentative and strangely shy. Maka turned to regard him carefully. The air felt oddly heavy between them, and Soul was being terribly quiet. Of course, he was quiet most of the time due to his lack of hearing. But this was different. He seemed uneasy and guarded, even as he was clearly trying to open himself up.

Soul placed a kiss on her forehead before sliding down to join her on the floor. Maka placed her plate back on the coffee table as his head found the crook of her neck. It was her turn to card her fingers through his hair. The silence stretched on for another minute before Soul inhaled deeply, arms encircling the small woman before pulling him into his lap.

Maka stiffened, afraid. She tried to turn to look at him, but he wouldn't allow it. There was another deep breath before the low rumbling of his voice vibrated between her shoulder blades.

"I don't know if you love me," he started slowly. "But I love you. I…I'm not good with words, and it has nothing to do with being deaf. I'm not smart, or rich. I'm not ambitious."

Soul stopped for a moment, but Maka knew better than to say anything. He wasn't finished. He was still tense beneath her, his arms wrapped tightly about her waist. When he spoke again, his voice was even quieter. Somber, wavering, and tentative.

"The only thing…all I…all I have to offer you is love. And honesty. I don't know how I sound to you right now. I don't even know how I sound to myself," he finished with a rueful chuckle.

She tried to turn again, and this time he let her. Moss eyes were glassy with tears and soft hands rose to rest on his cheeks, thumbs caressing just beneath ember eyes.

"Why?" she asked him.

He shook his head, not understanding.

"Why would you say all that. I mean, why would you **_say_** it?" she sniffled as a tear slid down her cheek, trying to emphasize what she meant with lame gestures. He deserved more than her awkward attempts to communicate with him.

Soul's response was firm and sure, belying his earlier behavior.

"Because you need to **_hear_** it, Maka. I love you."

For a few tense seconds she just looked at him, her cheeks wet and sticky with tears. She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to say it yet. She couldn't. And so Maka kissed him. She kissed him with everything she had. Her very soul was poured into that one single connection as she tried to will how she felt directly into his mouth. When she pulled away, he looked almost delirious with happiness. His own eyes were glazed over, but tears did not fall. He would not cry.

He never did.

They were lying in bed together after a rather invigorating round of sex, Maka's head pillowed on Soul's chest, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on her bare shoulder. Red eyes stared off into nothingness and Maka contemplated asking what he was thinking about. She opted for snuggling closer to him instead, her free hand sliding from his stomach up to his jaw. She liked to run her fingers over the defined structure of his face when she was worried. When he was worried, her fingers would slide through his hair, but this…this was her way of quelling her anxiousness.

She only got a few passes in before he was rolling away from her, fumbling around in his nightstand. A piece of folded notebook paper was handed to her, color high on his cheeks as she took it. His fingers plucked in his comforter while he pointedly avoided her gaze. Maka didn't bother to ask him what it was. Not that she could…his eyes were closed and his head was turned away.

Carefully, quietly, she unfolded the paper. Soul's awkward scrawl covered the page and she noted it was a list of things. A list of things **_about him_**. Some of it she already knew, but much of it she didn't.

 _My birthday is June 1_ _st_ _._  
My favorite color is green.  
My mother loved violets. My brother planted some for her in our garden.  
I broke my left ankle playing lacrosse when I was 15.  
My father enjoyed martinis. He had one every day after work. I make them because I miss him.  
My family loved me.  
I didn't love them enough.  
I don't drink at all.  
My foster parents' names are Syd and Nygus.  
I think hummingbirds are beautiful.  
Black*Star found me curled up in a gutter.  
I tell people my favorite movie is The Green Mile.  
My favorite movie is actually The Color Purple.  
I still play the piano sometimes, even though I can't hear it.  
I still collect Pokemon cards. Shut up.  
I have something I feel I need to show you.  
I'm afraid that if I do, I'll scare you away.  
Penguins creep me out. I don't know why.  
I haven't been back to Boston since I left.  
I have never seen where my brother and parents are buried.  
The only time I don't feel alone is when I'm with you.

Maka had been so engrossed in reading his note, she hadn't noticed that he'd vacated the bed. A pair of sweatpants had been donned and he leaned against the far wall, staring out the window and down to the street below. She took a good long look at his shadowed figure, unabashedly admiring the strength that emanated from his form. It was clear that Soul felt he was weak, but nothing could be further from the truth in Maka's mind.

She carefully tucked the piece of paper beneath her phone. She couldn't lose it. There were questions Maka had for him. Ones she knew he would answer if she asked him tonight. The gears were turning in her head. And then he turned and looked at her, eyes heavy lidded and soft, still dull with a hint of sadness, and the only thing she could do then was stand up to join him. The bed sheet was wrapped loosely around her form and she leaned into the solid warmth that was Soul.

A soft, "I love you," was whispered into his ribcage.

But of course, he still didn't hear it.


	22. Praise Satan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Two chapters, one day! WHOO! Enjoy this slight departure into silliness, because shit is about to hit the fan. At least a little bit.

“Ok, no.  You’re saying goodbye, not saluting Hitler!”

“Ugh, shut up!  I’m _trying!”_

Black*Star jumped onto his sofa, head landing in Tsubaki’s lap as he watched Maka struggle.  An almond roca candy was popped into his mouth and he hummed blissfully as the toffee shattered and melted on his tongue.  Tsubaki said nothing, choosing to run her hands through his wild blue hair as the pair bickered.

“Try again.  No, that’s hello.  I said say goodbye.”

“What’s the damn difference!” Maka wailed, frustrated.

“Don’t get pissy at me, Flatso!  And it makes _all_ the difference.  The way you position your hands can mean the difference between saying I love you and praising Satan.  Do it again.”

Maka growled at the derogatory nickname but complied, frowning in concentration.  Goodbye really wasn’t that hard of a sign, but she either forgot to close her fingers, or ended the sign with a straight arm instead of a wrist flick.  She wasn’t regretting her attempt to learn, and though she hated to admit it, Black*Star _had_ taught her a good deal in the last three months.  But the time they spent together felt excessive and exhausting, and she constantly had to remind herself that she was doing this for Soul.

“There!  You’ve got it right there!” Black*Star pointed at her as she finished the gesture.  “Do it again!”

She repeated the action, and the blue haired goon beamed at her.

“Excellent!  Now tell me you have to go to the store and say goodbye.”

Maka’s fingers were awkward and her hands jerked as she thought about how the signs were formed, but she was successful in communicating her plans to her teacher.

“Good job!  I think we’ll call it for today.”

Maka nodded before she spoke and signed to him, a habit she had picked up to help her learn. “I’m gonna grab some water.”

When she returned she took up residence in a nearby chair, neatly crossing her legs as she sipped at her drink.  The sight of Black*Star resting in Tsubaki’s lap was one that, much to her chagrin, made Maka feel warm inside.  It reminded her of how she felt when she was with Soul.  Even though she didn’t understand how Tsubaki got along with someone so arrogant, it made her happy that her friend was happy.  And she had to acknowledge that Soul saw something in the excitable twit, too.  They were best friends after all.

“Hey, Star?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, chewing on another candy.

“I know a lot of things about Soul now.  I know that he left Boston when he turned 18.  I know his foster parents’ names..Syd and Nygus.  He said he hasn’t been back since.  Do you know why?”

“I don’t,” Black*Star responded simply.  There was no edge to his tone.  It was just a statement of fact.

“Soul told me that you found him in a gutter.”

“I did.  Curled up in a bloody ball,” he hummed.  The noise was one of nonchalance, but the look that Star leveled at Maka was anything but.  There was a quiet fury blazing behind pale green eyes. “I don’t know what happened.  He never told me how he ended up where he was.  Only thing I know is that I brought him home with me that night and he stayed for the next three years.”

“When did he teach you to sign?”

Yet another piece of toffee was slipped between Black*Star’s lips and he sucked on it thoughtfully before answering Maka’s inquiry.

“Mmm…two years maybe?”

“Why not sooner?”

“I didn’t even know he could sign for the first six months he was here.  He only wrote notes or texted.  He never signed to me.  The first time he did, it was an accident.”

“An accident?”

“Yeah.  I dunno what triggered it.  We were talkin’ about where he came from and he just started doin’ it.  Didn’t even think about it.”

“I take it you pestered him from that point on, oh God of Gods?” Maka asked wryly.

Black*Star laughed, settling in further against Tsubaki’s side.  She remained silent throughout the exchange, stroking her boyfriend’s forehead or playing with the chain necklace he wore.

“Truth of the matter is, Blondie, that while my godly charm can sway just ‘bout anybody else,” he paused to waggle his eyes at Tsubaki, “Soul couldn’t…can’t be pushed.  Didn’t matter what I did or didn’t do.  Everything with Soul always came in its own time.  Still does.”

Maka only nodded, idly chewing on her lower lip as she considered Black*Star’s words.  What he said was indisputably true.  Soul revealed things when he felt it was safe to do so.  Not necessarily comfortable, but safe.  She’d learned that in only three months’ time.

“Y’know,” the cerulean maned sasquatch drawled, “Soul and I have been friends, best friends, for a decade.  This is the first time I’ve ever heard the names of his foster parents.”

Seafoam eyes met jade.  He seemed envious.  Maka was incredulous.  She searched for something, anything to say to him, but he cut her off.

“If you try and apologize, I swear I’ll slug you.  I don’t care if you are a girl.  I know you can sure as shit take it.”

Maka smirked at him.  Not only was it true, he knew she’d punch him back, and she could make him see stars.

“I’m the only friend Soul’s ever had out here.  Not by my choice, but by his.  If he’s decided to put his trust in someone else, it means something in his life is changing for the better.  He needs that.”

“I love him,” Maka gulped as she said the words.  It felt wrong that ‘Baki and Black*Star were the first ones to hear her say it, but she had to get it out.

“I know you do,” came a gentle response.  It wasn’t the voice of the idiot, but of her own best friend. “You don’t see the way you light up when he sends you a text, or how you blush when he smiles at you.  I’ve never seen you as disappointed as when you can’t meet him for lunch during the week because of meetings.  And your productivity has increased by 10% since you started dating seriously.”

“You did the math!?”

Tsubaki only shrugged. “I’m Asian.  What?”

“Way to live up to the stereotype, ‘Baki,” Maka chided.

“It’s the only one she _does_ live up to,” Black*Star noted as he leered at his girlfriend’s chest.

“You are so disgusting.  I don’t know why my papa ever took you on.”

“He recognized that I am the Godliest of all men!  How could he not?”

“You are just the worst, you know that?” the blonde sneered.

“But I’m the best at being the worst!” he laughed.

“Have you two ever noticed that you act like siblings?” Tsubaki giggled, gasping as Black*Star leapt from her lap and Maka flew out of her chair.

“WE DO NOT!” came the tandem yell.

“You’re right.  Not sibling like at all.  My apologies.”

Tsubaki did not bother to hide her smile as the two began bickering over how NOT sibling-like they were.

 


	23. Black White Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a bit, huh? I have not abandoned this story. There's no way I ever could. I adore it. But I realized about a week ago that we really are nearing the end (how many chapters that is I cannot say, as I don't know....I just know it's close). It is because we are nearing the end that I have not updated.
> 
> I am afraid to close off this longfic. It is the first one I have ever done and it makes me anxious (and yes, sad) to bring it to an end.
> 
> My heart is in this piece in a way I didn't think was possible. It's...hard. Hard to stop a piece of yourself, you know?
> 
> That said, y'all are gonna hate me this chapter. A lot. And that's ok. It'll all be ok, I promise.
> 
> This chapter is in present tense because it needs to be. Past tense will return in Chapter 24.

Things were black.  Then white.  Then everything turned red.  Red, red, red.  He was covered in it; she was enveloped by it.  There was a ringing in her ears followed by an unearthly wailing noise.  It took her far too long to realize the sound was coming from her.

“No!  No, no, no, no, no!”

New colors now.  People in blue, followed by people in white.  Pink scrubs, green scrubs.  Somebody has penguins on their uniform.

She cries.

“Do you have a phone number for any family?”

“He doesn’t have any.  They’re dead.”

“Friends?”

An absent nod.

She works on autopilot, green eyes glassy and empty.  She knows that this isn’t the sort of thing that should be sent over text, but she has no voice to speak the details of what has transpired.  The name of the hospital and an exceptionally brief rundown of what has happened is sent to Black*Star.

The twenty-minute drive takes the maniac ten to make, and then he’s there, yelling, demanding to see his bro.  He may be the biggest star in the world, but what’s a star without his posse, y’know?  There are words of “calm down” and “breathe”, but she doesn’t know who they’re directed to.  She’s pretty sure they’re meant for the goon that’s bouncing around at the help kiosk, demanding answers.

It is a pair of violet eyes and a voice that is low and laden with concern that alerts her to the fact that she has collapsed on the floor.  Tears spill over the edges of her eyes and she scrambles away to vomit in a nearby trashcan.  The remnants of her morning muffin smell dank and rotten, and she curses her ability to recognize the fact that she’s aware of that means she knows she’s alive and he’s…he may not…

There are arms around her again, long and willowy, and she’s pulled into a chest that is far bigger than her own.  A humorless laugh escapes her.

“Maka?  Did you hear me?”

“No, Tsu.”

“He’s coming out of surgery now.  It’s ok.  He’s ok.”

“Maka Albarn?”

The voice that reaches her ears is unfamiliar, and when she pulls away from the security of Tsubaki’s chest, she’s met with by the unwavering gaze of a dark skinned man in green scrubs.  His hair is pulled back in an immaculately kept spiked ponytail, eyes covered by a visor.

Strange.

“I’m Maka.”

“Ms. Albarn, I’m Dr. Éclair.  I’ll get right to the heart of the matter.  Mr. Evans has a broken leg, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a fractured collarbone.  His ribs and leg needed to be surgically reset.  His lung, luckily, was not so badly damaged as to require anything more than intubation.  He’ll be on a ventilator for a few days, but overall, he should recover just fine.”

“He’s…alive?” Maka murmurs.  Her fingers clutch at her bloodstained jacket.  It’s his blood.  Not hers.  “He’s alive.”

“Yes.  Now, as I was saying….”

The surgeon doesn’t have a chance to continue, the breath stolen from his (perfectly healthy) lungs as a tiny blonde throws herself into his body, arms wrapped around his waist.  Though this is a common occurrence for him, it’s not something he ever gets used to.  Even so, he reaches up a cautious hand to rest it on a trembling shoulder.  He looks beyond her to a disturbingly heavy muscled blue haired male and an abnormally tall Japanese woman.

“I’ll find someone to take you to him.”

* * *

The trio stands outside the door with a blonde nurse.  She takes a quick glance at her clipboard before offering a small apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, but only one of you will be able to stay.  He’s not in any condition to take many visitors.  The three of you can see him for a moment, but you’ll have to decide who can wait for a longer visit.”

“No decision to be made.  Maka’ll stay,” comes a gruff voice.

“Black*Star, I don’t…”

“Don’t make me say it again.  He’s my bro, but you’re his…you’re…” he falters.  “He needs you.”

The stout man leans towards Tsubaki.  The action is so incredibly infinitesimal, but Maka sees it, and she understands, even if Black*Star doesn’t.  He doesn’t understand any of it.  He can’t.  But he wants to.

The nurse offers a small smile before placing her hand on the door handle.

“You need to know that he’s not conscious right now, and he’s pretty banged up.  I’m sure Dr. Éclair told you he’s on a vent…”

“What does that mean?” Black*Star frowns.  He doesn’t like how this sounds.

Maka swallows, hugging her arms to her body as she stares at the ugly brown of the hospital tile.

“It means he’s on a machine to help him breathe.”

She shouldn’t know what it means, but she does.

The nurse nods and opens the door to usher them all in, giving them notice that they have five minutes before Black*Star and Tsubaki need to leave.  Tsubaki already knows they won’t be there that long, as her boyfriend has gone rigid beside her.  She’s never seen him so still.  He is a man of action, of constant motion.  He even moves when he sleeps.

It is unnerving for him to be so still.

“Star?” she queries, voice tinged with concern.

“’M okay,” he mumbles.  He is clearly not ok, taking in the sight of his best friend covered in tubes and wires.  But his feet finally move and he pulls up a chair to take a seat beside the bed.  His face is stony and stoic.  And then he lays his head down, face near Soul’s unmoving fingers, and takes a deep hitched breath.

Tsubaki and Maka say nothing.

They don’t say anything when he gets up and leaves the room on his own, eyes damp and face hard set.

Maka watches as Tsubaki crosses the room and bows deeply, whispering in Japanese before placing a soft kiss on Soul’s forehead.

A quick hug and sharing that she and Black*Star will be available if Maka needs them are all she receives.  And then she’s gone, too and Maka is left alone.

With her guilt.

She takes up the seat that Black*Star had previously occupied and begins cataloging all the wires and tubes that snake out of and into Soul’s body.  The eerily quiet wheeze of the ventilator.  The (thankfully) steady _beep, beep, beep_ of his heart monitor.  She forces herself to acknowledge the bruises along his shoulders and the bandages on his face that hide vicious scrapes from the asphalt tearing into his skin.

His hands are wrapped in gauze and there are a couple of stitches beneath one of his eyes, over his cheekbone.  Probably a cut from a shard of glass.  A headlight had shattered when the car hit him.  She can still hear how it sounded when the vehicle made impact.

She wishes she couldn’t.

It has never occurred to Maka that something could sound both wet and dry, but she realizes that is the best descriptor for what she heard.  The dull thud of the bumper making contact with his frame, the crisp snap of bone, the wet slurp of blood and vomit and tears before he gasped and passed out.

He had remained awake long enough to be able to demand Maka be allowed to ride with him to the hospital.  It was only once she had settled enough to contact Black*Star and Tsubaki that the likely reason she’s there is because she knows his history.  More than what Black*Star knows, anyway...even after a decade of friendship.

They’re not together now, after all.  Maka doesn’t think so anyway.  She’s made a mess of everything.  She’s only here now because…

“Miss?”

The nurse has returned and she gazes upon Maka sympathetically as she enters the room to tend to her patient.

“Do I need to leave?” Maka inquires.  Her voice holds a surprising edge.  An unspoken threat.  It surprises her but she shoves the feeling down as she waits for a response.

There is a kind smile and a shake of the nurse’s head as she says, “No.  You’re alright.  I just need to check his bandages and do some reflex tests.  You can stay.”

She nods absently, removing herself to a corner of the room while the nurse checks bandages, administers medications, and writes notes on Soul’s chart before excusing herself.  She pops back in momentarily with a blanket and pillow for Maka who tries to protest, though she's already back at Soul's side.

The woman is too good at her job Maka decides.

A quick peek at her phone reveals that it’s 9 PM.  She’s been at the hospital for seven hours and she really has no intention of leaving.  It’s too late to call Kid and let him know she won’t be in tomorrow, but she knows Tsubaki is awake.  She sends a quick text asking her to notify Kid she won’t be in for the next few days.  Kid may grouse a little, but this is an emergency situation and he won’t begrudge her the time off.

A cautious hand reaches up to brush through white hair.  It’s sweaty and a bit matted, but the gore has been rinsed away.  They probably cleaned him up a little before he was brought to the room.

Maka knows she should eat, but she’s not hungry.  She’s not sure she’ll ever be hungry again.  All she really wants right now is for Soul to wake up.  She wants to see bright red eyes and a grin that is accented by teeth that are too sharp.  She wants to hear his laugh, deep and rich.  She wants to curl up with him in bed again, feel his warmth pressed to her back and his breath hot on her neck, even though the sensation annoys her.

She regrets their fight.  She regrets the breakup that may or may not have been a breakup.  Neither of them had said it was over, but they hadn’t spoken to each other in a week.  Maka assumed that he was just too cowardly to come out and break it off, even though what she knew of him, of his character, made such cowardice impossible for him.  They are both stupidly proud people, however, and apologies don’t come easily for either of them.

Her biggest regret at the moment, though, is that she still has not told him how she loves him.  How without him she has no air to breathe, no heart to beat in her chest.  How he has given her faith in love.  How music has meaning to her now when it hadn’t before she’d met him.

Those regrets pile on her, weighing her down, down, down as she does the only thing she can think of.

She signs _I’m sorry_ because pride is not worth her soul.  Pride is not worth her Soul.

The sign _I love you_ follows shortly thereafter, pressed firmly over his heart that beats strong and steady.  Just like he is.  Just like he’s always been for her.  The regret continues and the guilt swallows her.

And then she lays down her head and cries.


	24. Spirits and Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On look! You get some answers this chapter! Next chapter is going to be potentially flashbacky (haven't decided). I know what I want to do, just not how I want to execute it (have a couple thoughts). As for this chapter, I wanted to give Spirit some more screen time as it were. It's necessary.

Maka woke to the steady beeping pulse of Soul’s heart monitor and the wheezing whir of his ventilator.  Nurses had been in and out all night to check on him, but Maka really hadn’t been sleeping to begin with, so their presence had been immaterial.  They gave her small updates.  Only what they were allowed to share by law, she assumed.  It was still a comfort, no matter how small.

She had stirred several times in the night, thinking she had felt his fingers in her hair or his eyes watching her as she rested.  The nurses explained that she probably felt a reactionary twitch, but nothing more than that, and the feeling of being watched was not at all uncommon.  That knowledge was disconcerting, but she didn’t comment on it.  She only laid her head back on the bed and waited.

When she finally checked her phone she noted it was 9:30 in the morning.  Almost eighteen hours at the hospital and she hadn’t eaten anything or had anything to drink beyond a Butterfinger from the vending machine and a couple of bottles of water.  She needed real food (and a damn shower), but she was loath to leave Soul, irrespective of their dating status. 

Maka needed to be there when he woke up.

The rumbling of her stomach interrupted her thoughts.  Or maybe that was the recurring pang of guilt.  She couldn’t entirely tell anymore.  Her brows furrowed, though she hadn’t a clue what she was glaring at (well, beyond the mattress of the hospital bed).  There were all sorts of things she felt the need to express and at the same time she kept those feelings bottled up.  The only person she wanted to talk to was unconscious.  And everybody else, try as she knew they would, only felt burdensome to interact with at present.

A knock on the door was Maka’s next distraction.  When she lifted her head she expected to see a nurse or maybe Soul’s doctor.  Instead she was greeted by the concerned visage of her father.  She tried to scowl at him even though she knew he deserved none of her ire.  She was being unfair.  All attempts to push him away were quashed when he spoke.

“Hey, Cricket.”

It was an endearing nickname he had bestowed upon her when she was two or three years old.  When she had gotten old enough to understand, Spirit had told her it was because she was always filling silences between people.  Sometimes with facts, sometimes with a joke, sometimes with just plain nonsense.  He loved his little cricket.  He hadn’t called her by the moniker in several years.

Maybe he knew she needed something to hold on to, even if it was buried somewhere in their painful past.

The elder crossed the room quietly, not bothering to wait for an invitation.  He was coming in whether she wanted him there or not anyway.  His little girl was hurting, and it was his job to try and fix it.

“You look exhausted, Maka,” he spoke softly.

“I need to be here.  When he wakes up,” came the reply.  No acknowledgement of her own weariness was given.

“When’s the last time you ate?  Have you been home at all?”

“I can’t leave him.”

“Maka, honey, you need to…”

She cut him off with a growl nothing short of feral.  Green eyes flashed with a fury that could have only been rivaled by The Hulk.

“Why are you here!?  You don’t even like him!” she hissed vehemently.  She wanted to yell, scream, throttle the man before her.  But she wouldn’t disturb Soul.  Wouldn’t have him wake to such chaos.

Spirit didn’t even flinch.  The outburst hurt, sure enough, and he was used to Maka’s angry outbursts ever since he and her mother had divorced.  But the truth of the matter was that the anger directed at him now had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the white haired male resting helplessly in the hospital bed.  His daughter was in pain and his own wellbeing meant nothing in comparison to hers.  In addition to that, Spirit had never said one way or another what his feelings towards Soul were.  He didn’t know the man well enough to have formed a true opinion of him and was, realistically, quite neutral towards him.

Well...maybe he didn’t think Soul was good enough for his Cricket.  Just a little.  But as a father, no man would ever be good enough.  That was a cross any potential suitor would have to bear.

The redhead stepped forward again, silently pulling Maka out of her chair and into his chest.  He fully expected her to shove him away.  To hit him.  Even kick him.  She may have been in her late twenties, but she still managed to dig deep and bring out some of that good old fashioned petulance when she had a mind to.

He really wasn’t prepared for her to sag against his body and sob.  It was quiet, nearly silent, but Maka had given in to the weight of her emotions and bawled.  And he did the only thing he could do.  He held her and ran his fingers through her hair.  He let her clutch at his shirt and ignored the damp that seeped through the material.  He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head.

He never told her it was alright.  He didn’t know if it would be and she would hate it if he tried to say it was.

“It was my fault.”

The words were muffled, but Spirit heard them all the same.  He didn’t respond.  Knew he didn’t need to.  Maka was like her mother.  She would bottle everything inside, get worked up over something completely inane, and then unleash like Vesuvius.  The initial outburst would be violent (even if it was a quiet violence), and then everything would just ooze out of her, slow and healingly destructive.  Emotional magma.

“We had a fight,” the blonde sniffled, turning her head so it rested against Spirit’s chest.  I said things I shouldn’t have…I pushed too hard.  He just wouldn’t _listen_!”

Spirit couldn’t hold back his huff of laughter.  The deaf guy wouldn’t listen.  He was grateful that Maka ignored it.  She was probably just too exhausted to deal with his idiocy and needed to get whatever it was off her chest.  Even if it was his worthless self she unburdened herself to.

“I was just so _angry_!  I went to cross the street and he…pushed me.  He pushed me so hard, Papa, and I was going to yell at him again.  And that car…I was going to yell at him again.”

And then it dawned on him all at once.  Octopus Head had saved her life.  They were fighting, angry with each other, and he still…

“It’s not your fault,” Spirit spoke lowly.  Confidently.  And when she tried to protest he took his face in her hands and stared into those beautiful green eyes.  Eyes that reminded him so much of her mother even though they looked like his own. “He.  Loves.  You.  I saw it the first time I met him.  I don’t know why you fought.  I don’t need to know. And I won’t say it doesn’t matter, because hurting ones you love matters.  It _always matters_ , Maka.  He was willing to sacrifice his life for you.  You didn’t force him to make that choice.  He made it on his own. That matters _more_.  That is nobody’s fault.”

Maka’s response was to bury her face back in his chest and hug him tightly.  It was the closest thing he had gotten to a thank you since she was eight or nine years old.

“Go home, Cricket.”

“I can’t leave him alone.”

“He won’t be alone.  I’ll stay with him.”

“Papa, you don’t have to….”

“I do.  And I want to.  Please?  I will call you a cab to take you home and Tsu or Star can bring you back if you want.  But you need to eat. And sleep.  And I know you want a shower and some fresh clothes.”

All the fight seemed to drain right out of her.  He was right.  She absolutely despised it (even in spite of the comfort he had just given her), but he was right.  She was absolutely ravenous.  Not to mention exhausted.  And she smelled like a goddamn dumpster.  She could probably wake Soul up with her stench.

“Alright, Papa.”

He smiled at her, soft and genuine, before kissing her forehead.  She excused herself to the bathroom while he arranged a ride for her.  While she freshened up the best she could, he took up residence in her chair, hands clasped between his knees as he leaned forward.  He considered the man in the bed.  Considered that he had actually saved his daughter’s life.  His heart.  The best thing to come out of the marriage that he had shattered.  The broken man before him was a good one.  He had no legitimate reason to hate him now.  To distrust him with what Spirit held most dear in his life.

When Maka emerged from the bathroom she looked only slightly more awake.  Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, nose irritated from the use of too many rough tissues and paper towels.  Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two men, but nothing was said.  She was just so tired.  Too tired to try and deal with any more emotions.

“Cab’ll be here in five.  I’ll walk you out front.”

Her eyes darted to Soul again.

“I will come right back to him Maka, I promise you,” Spirit spoke as he reached for her hand.

“Right back?” she questioned, hesitant.  She was unsure.  And this wasn’t a matter of not trusting her father this time.  She didn’t want Soul left alone _at all._

“I promise, Cricket.  I will come right back.  He won’t be alone.  I just want to make sure you get home.  Ok?”

She hesitated once more before she gave in, nodding her acceptance.  And with that, Spirit was out of the chair, his arm raising to pull Maka into his side.  She did not protest, just leaned into him.  He understood he was exhausted, but he hoped this meant she was happy to accept this little bit of help from him.

The cab was waiting for her by the time they made it out to the front of the hospital.  He hugged his daughter to his chest one more time before ushering her inside the vehicle.

“Maka,” he began, voice steady and consoling, “it wasn’t your fault.  You have to remember that.  It was his choice to make, and it’s not something he’ll regret. Don’t…just…just don’t.  Ok?”

There was a beat of silence as Maka's head dropped forward while she fought off sleep and took in her father’s words.  She turned to look at him with tired eyes, though there was a faint hint of her tenacity rekindling in her irises.

“Thank you, Papa.”

And she closed the car door.

Spirit nodded absently, even as the cab turned the corner at the end of the block.  He swallowed a suspicious lump in his throat and headed back inside.  The ginger made a beeline for Soul’s room, immediately taking post in her vacated chair

He wouldn’t let her down this time.  He couldn’t.  He refused.

“Hey, Octopus head,” he chuffed a laugh as he spoke.  “You’re an idiot.  Throwing yourself in front of a moving vehicle.  Who the hell does that?”

His tone was rueful. Trying to joke didn't feel right after the gravity of the situation had settled over him. All he could do now was follow in his daughter's footsteps. All he could do was share words that the man who saved the most precious part of him cannot hear.

“I can never repay you for what you’ve done, Soul.  And the funny thing is, I know you wouldn’t ask me to.  You are everything for her that I couldn’t be for her mother,” he paused to clear his throat, pretending his discomfort was due to dry hospital air rather than having to acknowledge the pain he has caused. “She hates me.  It’s my fault, I know that.  You are capable of a level of loyalty I was never even able to scratch the surface of.  Not for romantic love, anyway.  I thought I had ruined her.  And it would have been fine with me if she’d never taken on a romantic partner because she wasn’t interested.  But she avoided dating, even forming friendships of men, because of what I did to her mama.”

Spirit scowled viciously as the anger welled up in him.  It wasn’t the first time he had confronted his relationship demons, but it was the first time he had done it sober.  It really didn’t feel great.

“I wanted to hate you, kid.  I really did.  When I saw you in her apartment I saw red.  And then…then you tried to beat the shit out of me because you thought I was going to hurt her,” he frowned again, but this time it was contemplative, not contemptuous.  “The best part is that I don’t think it would have mattered if you had known right off the bat that I was her father.  You would have done it anyway, because nobody hurts Maka.  Not me.  Not a car.  Nobody hurts Maka.”

A rough hand made its way through fiery strands before descending to pat Soul’s forearm roughly.

“Come back to her, Soul.  She needs you.  She loves you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments. Need comments. They are my lifeblood.


	25. Fester: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters are actually one chapter in two parts. I didn't like how things were going to be formatted if I combined both ideas into one chapter post.
> 
> This chapter will answer some more questions for you.
> 
> As always, please leave comments. My ego needs them.

Maka didn’t go home.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  She went home, just not to her apartment.  Even though they had only been together three months at the time, once Soul had allowed her into his space, that was all she wrote.  She spent more time at his place than her own.  And while it was true her apartment was the more aesthetically pleasing of the two, it lacked a soul.  The feeling of being lived in.  It was sterile and devoid of what she deemed important.

Someone to share it with.

And so she went to the bike shop.  She ascended the stairs, shed her clothes on the way to the shower, and stood under spray that was initially ice cold, to numb herself, and then scalding, to try and burn away the turmoil.  She emerged clean, but not refreshed, towel wrapped tightly around her hair while another clung loosely to her frame.

She stood silently in the doorway of the room that had started their fight and thought back on the events leading up to it.  Harmless play that had caused her to stumble upon his secret…

* * *

 

_Maka squealed as he chased her about the apartment, a rumble in his chest and a sharp grin on his face.  Caught between the couch and the door, Maka giggled again as Soul crouched, fit to pounce.  She faked left, then ran right disappearing down the short hallway and darting through the first door she could grab the handle of._

_Her laughter died on her lips as she took in the newspaper clippings on the wall.  Portraits of bloody scenery and smashed glass.  A twisted body unfamiliar to her._

**_BOSTON’S SYMPHONIC FAMILY SUFFERS TRAGIC LOSS_ **

**_EVANS FAMILY KILLED IN CAR WRECK_ **

**_THE LAST THE ONLY_ **

_The setting sun painted the room in an eerie orange glow, serving to further burn pictures and titles into her retinas.  She could only gape, even when she felt an unsteady hand settle on her shoulder.  Even when she heard the shaky exhalation of a breath._

_She turned to look at him, expecting to see pain burning in fiery eyes.  But there was nothing there.  Not even anger.  His face was cold and stony, devoid of any sort of emotion.  A wall had been erected before he had even set foot in the room, and he would share nothing._

_“Soul, what is this?”_

_Silence._

_“What is this!?” she demanded, though it came out as a choked whisper._

_He was quiet for a moment more before he spoke, deep and low, “My grief.”_

_And he turned and left her in his shrine.  In the room that held all his pain, his sorrow, his regret._

* * *

 

She had chased him out of the room, grabbing her phone and texting furiously as she moved around the apartment.  She needed answers, needed to understand why.  Why, why,  _why_ would he do that to himself?!

For the first time in their relationship, he shut her out.  He sank onto his couch, closed his eyes, and refused to acknowledge her presence.  Refused to look at her texts.  Refused to have any sort of discussion about what she had seen.

Maka had left then, and he didn’t try to stop her.  It didn’t hurt (well, it didn’t hurt her) because she was coming back.  She just had to do something.  Had to help him.  How long had he been this way?  Since they died?  That had to be the answer.  Did anybody else know about that room?

_I have something I feel I need to show you.  I’m afraid that if I do, it will scare you away._

She remembered those words from his “secrets” list.  Was that room what he meant?  If it was, she was afraid, truthfully.  But it was because he was inflicting suffering on himself.  He didn’t need to see those things every day.  To know that room was there and be reminded that he had no family left in the world.  Soul didn’t need to put himself through that pain.

* * *

 

**_What is this?_ **

_A ticket to Boston.  You need to go home.  You need to see them._

**_I see them every time I close my eyes.  I don’t need to stand on their graves._ **

_Did you ever say goodbye?_

**_Stop it, Maka._ **

_Have you ever even cried over them?_

**_Leave it alone, Maka._ **

_“SOUL!”_

_“NO, MAKA!  I SAID NO!”_

_“You can’t keep doing this to yourself!  You don’t deserve it!”_

_“What the hell do you know about what I deserve?!  What do you know about any of it?!”_

* * *

 

Maka leaned against the doorframe, staring into the abyss of clippings and the shards that remained of Soul’s shattered life.  Her cheeks were sticky with tears but she didn’t bother to wipe them away.  She cursed herself for pushing him so hard, and then again for letting herself into his apartment when she didn’t belong there anymore.

He had called her selfish, yelled at her, screamed really, that she was arrogant and stupid.  He had told her she couldn’t possibly know what it was like to have no one left because she still had a man who was desperate to be close to his daughter.  She still had a family and she was willing to throw it all away because of her father’s mistakes.  He had said she was a foolish child, because even though her father hadn’t been faithful to his mother he was always faithful to _her_ , and she spit in his face every time he tried to be near her.  She held her mother on a pedestal even though she never visited and never made time for her daughter.

_“Who do you think you are to tell me about the importance of family?”_

The words had been venomous, meant to wound.  And they hit their mark deep in her heart.

She had left the apartment without a word, without a glance backwards.  Angry and wounded she had collapsed on top of her own bed which now seemed foreign to her.  It smelled stale and unfamiliar.  But one didn’t need to be surrounded by familiarity to curl up in a ball and sob.  A solitary space and plenty of absorbent material would suffice.

Maka hated crying; found it abhorrent really.  But she wept uncontrollably anyway.  Tears of anger, and sorrow, and frustration.  Tears of regret and guilt.  Soul’s words were poisonous, but they weren’t wrong.  Even as they ate at her like acid, she knew they weren’t wrong.  Her mother did ignore her, her father tried to get closer to her, and the irony of the situation weighed heavy on her heart.

Truly, what did she know of family?  She made it impossible for any semblance of hers to remain, even when one party was still trying desperately.  She shunned her father with a vehemence that, realistically, he did not deserve.  He had hurt twelve-year-old Maka, most assuredly, but not on purpose.  She hurt Spirit with intent, and then reveled in his misery when her rejection cut him.

And yet, he never gave up on her.

What kind of daughter was she?  What kind of _person_ was she?  Certainly not one to be proud of.

Her attempt to help Soul heal his wounds had opened up her own.


	26. Fester: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even gonna lie to y'all. I wrote the last sentence of this chapter and I fucking burst into tears.
> 
> GOOD LUCK!
> 
> For those interested in the music I am referring to:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXzQngmzhwE
> 
> I think it's very "Soul" in nature.

Soul opened his eyes to find himself shrouded in darkness.  The air in the room was stale, almost musty, and the dust motes that danced in the moonlight reaffirmed that he currently resided somewhere that hadn’t been occupied in quite some time.  Sitting up, he noted that he was clothed in an old Pearl Jam t-shirt and baggy jeans that were torn at the knees.  These were clothes he hadn’t seen since he was eleven or twelve years old.  He snorted derisively, the memory of his “alternative” dress as a preteen welling up inside him. 

A quick glance about and he realized that he was in his old room.  The wall was adorned with posters that made no sense collectively, but meant the world to him.  The Doors, 3 Doors Down, Barenaked Ladies, Count Basie, Dave Brubeck.  A mess of nostalgia, a stark reminder of how his tastes differed so widely from those of his family.

His family…

With a shake of his head and a hand clutched to his chest, he dared to open the door to his room.  There was no way to know what lay on the other side, but Soul found he didn’t much care.  For all he knew, he was dead.  He remembered Maka and the car, remembered being struck, but there was nothing but black beyond that.  Maybe the other side of the door held the _other side_.  He wasn’t afraid of it, regardless.

That probably should have terrified him.

But when Soul opened the door, mane of white falling in his eyes, he heard the sounds of dissonant piano being backed by the crisp strings of an orchestra.  Wait…heard?  He hadn’t heard anything for fifteen years now.

“The fuck…?”

The musician wandered down a familiar hallway, feet moving of their own accord.  When he finally stopped, it was in a room of red and gold.  The filigree in the woodwork was intricate and sophisticated, the furniture equally so.  And in a chair of plush ivory and well-polished mahogany sat a blue eyed blonde, legs crossed, a demure smile on his face.

“Hello, little brother.”

Soul shook his head, rubbed his eyes, blinked away what he was sure was delirium.  But the apparition remained, soft eyes and a grin that was all too familiar.

“Wes…” he whispered.  His hand reached forward, wanting to touch, but he pulled back as if burned.  “You’re not real.  This isn’t real.”

The blonde stood and easily made his way over to the younger male.  His hands disappeared into the pockets of the khakis he wore, a mirror of how the smaller often stood, minus the slouch.  A blue button up was pushed up to his forearms, the first buttons over his chest remaining open, giving him a casual appearance in spite of his general country club look.

“Is that any way to greet your brother?” Wes laughed.

Soul turned his head away, unwilling to look at this…farce.  But that voice.  He hadn’t heard his voice in so long.  It was warm and welcoming and it felt like home.  A place he had been so sure he’d never had.

“Come now, Soul.  I don’t have very long here.  Certainly you won’t ignore me after such a long time away?”

And Soul found he couldn’t help himself.  He looked back into eyes of ice that were so easy and care free.  Looked at pale skin that had a surprising amount of color.  When he reached out again he did not stop himself until his fingers were on flesh.  It was warm to the touch, soft and forgiving, and in an instant he was wrapped in a tight embrace and soft lips pressed against his head.

“I have missed you so much, little brother,” Wes exhaled.

“You’re…real.”

“As real as you need me to be.”

“What does that mean?” Soul frowned as he stepped away, recalculating his affection.

Wes only shrugged, taking his place in the chair once again.

Soul licked his lips, unsure where to start, what to ask, how to proceed.  His brain was putting together what was happening slowly, in little bits and pieces.  He could only assume he was in a coma of some sort, possibly dying.  There would be no other reason for his deceased brother to show up like this.  And certainly not whole.  Whenever Soul closed his eyes and saw Wes, he was twisted and broken, wheezing as blood filled his lungs, only able to cough out his last words.

“That’s morbid, Soul!  Jesus Christ, I come to visit and you think of my corpse!”

“How did you…”

“Nothing going on in here is a secret, little brother,” Wes smirked.  “Especially not that cute little blonde of yours.”

“Maka…” Soul gasped, suddenly looking for a way out.  “Where’s Maka?!”

Wes had poured himself a glass of brandy and was leaning against the grand piano in the center of the room.  He took a slow sip as his younger brother darted about frantically.  He only spoke again when Soul had stopped, hands raised and buried in his hair as he searched desperately for an exit.

“Near as I can tell, your lady friend is fine,” the blonde spoke easily, another sip of brandy sliding down his throat.

“Are you sure?  How do you know?!” Soul looked at him wild eyed.

“Well, it’s just a guess, honestly.  While I’m privy to your memories here, the outside world is a different story.  I hear voices, though.  People have been talking to you.  I heard a girl a few hours ago.  It’s been a man the last couple, though.”

Soul felt his fingers loosen, scalp throbbing from how tightly he’d been holding on.  He crumpled on the floor in a heap and then stared up at Wes.  He was utterly lost.

Wes took a deep breath and hummed, a smile tipping up one corner of his mouth.

“Do you remember this, Soul?”

“What?”

“This concert.  You convinced mom and dad to include Tcherepnin’s 10 Bagatelles in the set.”

There was a pause as Soul listened to the music that was playing softly in the background.  The sound was “crunchy” as his piano teacher had put it. 

He nodded then and said, “Shanghai, 1997.  I was ten.  It was my first time playing as principal pianist.”

His parents had hated Tcherepnin.  They thought him simplistic and the dissonance ground on their eardrums.  But in the end, they had acquiesced because they couldn’t get him to play anything else.  He was stubborn even then.

That debut had been the most terrifying ten minutes of his life.  Wesley was who the people had really come to see, the 19-year-old violin prodigy, but his parents had thought it would be a good idea to show the world what else they were producing.

It was a shame he had been such a disappointment.

“You really need to stop thinking those things,” the elder chided.  “It’s never been true.  Mom and dad were always proud of you, Soul.  Always.”

“Get out of my head you ass!”

“Literally can’t.”

“Why are you here, Wes?” Soul groused.  He knew he shouldn’t.  He hadn’t seen his brother in fifteen years.  Hadn’t heard _anything_ in fifteen years.  And yet, here he was, acting petulant and bratty for reasons unbeknownst to even him.

“The greater question, my grumpy compatriot, is why are you here?”

“What the shit does that even mean?”

“You’re not dead, Soul.  You’re not even in a coma from what I can tell.  You have someone waiting for you.  Several someones judging by the voices I heard.  Jesus, that makes me sound like a nutter…”

“How the fuck do you think I feel?  I’m talking to my dead brother’s ghost.”

Wes snorted, a noise most unbecoming of an Evans.

“Oh, come on!  I’m _dead_!  Who cares how I laugh?”

“You’re dead and you still dress like a preppy asshole.”

“We can’t all be Emo, Soul.”

“I was _not_ Emo!  I was…eclectic.”

The taller shrugged and nodded, willing to accept that answer.

“You never told her,” Wes started, returning to the heart of the conversation.  It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact.  “You never told her who you are.”

“She knows who I am.  She knows I’m an Evans.  She knows you’re all dead.  She knows how.”

“But you never told her that you were an _Evans_.  She…what’s her name?  Maka?  She doesn’t know what that actually means.”

“Why should it matter, Wes?!” Soul stood abruptly, face red with anger he didn’t understand.  “Why should it matter that I’m an Evans?!  Why should it matter who I was?  Who I was supposed to be?  That’s not me anymore, ok?  It was never me in the first place!”

Wes set his brandy glass on the edge of the piano.  Their mother would have cuffed him good for that.  The possibility of leaving rings on the lacquer was too great, and that was not how one treated and thirty-thousand-dollar piece of equipment.

“In the grand scheme of things, perhaps it doesn’t matter.  You’ve always shunned the family lifestyle, wanted to go your own way.  Are you afraid she’d only want you for the money if she knew?”

“You shut your fucking mouth!  Maka’s not a gold digger!”

A blonde eyebrow raised quizzically, arms crossing over his chest as Wes returned to leaning against the piano.

“What possible reason could you have for not letting her know?”

“She _knows_ , alright!  She saw the clippings!”

“Yeah, I know she did.  That doesn’t mean she _understands_ , Soul.  So _why won’t you tell her_?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Soul barked, cheeks red and hands shaking.

“YES you DO!  You know!  SAY IT!” Wes stepped forward, his own eyes hard with fury.  “Fucking _SAY IT_ , Soul!”

The younger shoved at his brother, rough and unforgiving, bitterness and fear and nausea all swirling in his gut.

“Because I’m nothing now, alright!?  I’m fucking _nothing!_   I’m deaf out there, Wes!  I can’t hear shit, can’t play shit, can’t offer her a goddamn thing!  I was an Evans, I’m not anymore!”

And the tears fell.  Maka wasn’t there to see them, but the tears fell, salty and acrid, burning his cheeks even as he scrubbed them away.  He was almost thirty fucking years old.  He shouldn’t be crying.

Wes stood before Soul, stoic and statuesque as he had always been.  A hand alighted on a broad shoulder before pulling him in for another hug.  He clutched him tightly, hugged him as he had many times before as they grew up.

“You have never been nothing.  You have always been an Evans.  You will always be an Evans.  Mom and dad loved you.  I love you. _Maka loves you_.  For you.  I know she does, Soul.  I know she does.”

“She…doesn’t say it.  She can do better,” Soul hiccupped.

“Doesn’t she?  Can she?”

“Of course she can, she….”

“Even if you believe she _can_ , little brother, does she _want_ to?” the elder questioned calmly, flicking his wrist to reveal a plane ticket in his hand.  “Somebody who is looking for something else, looking for “better”, doesn’t do this.  She saw your biggest secret and she didn’t run away.  She came back.  And from the memories that have been skittering around in this weird ass mess you call your consciousness, she’s a feisty thing.  I don’t think anything’s gonna change if you tell her who you really are.”

Soul leaned back to stare at the ticket, sniffling rather obnoxiously before rubbing the back of his hand over his running nose.

“Oh, that is so uncouth!”

“Shut the fuck up you dilettante.”

Wes gasped, pressing his fingers to his chest and making a face as if he had been irrevocably offended.

Soul huffed out a laugh before he ducked his head, hooking his fingers into the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“Y’know, before she met me, all she listened to was trance music.”

This time the elder screwed up his face in a sincere expression of distaste.

“Little brother, that’s…that’s…”

“It’s awful, I know.  So, so bad,” he chuckled.

“If that’s the worst thing about her, you’ve got it pretty easy.”

“Heh, to be honest, the worst thing about her is her temper.  She’s got a short fuse that burns real hot.”

“Oh, gee, please tell me what that’s like,” he huffed as blue eyes rolled.

“Fuck you, you…”

Soul was cut off by an unnerving shaking of the floor.

“The hell is that?!” Wes yelped, grabbing wildly for something to hold onto.

_I see the crystal raindrops fall and the beauty of it all is when the sun comes shining through_

“Bill Withers?” Soul responded, clearly confused as he tried to catch his own balance.

_To make those rainbows in my mind when I think of you sometime, and I want to spend some time with you._

The floor shook again and Wes fell on his ass in a heap.  Cracks were forming in the walls and a chandelier came crashing down in front of the fireplace.

“SHIT!  I think our time is up, little brother!”

“What?  No!  I’m not ready yet!” a tan hand extended to grab his brother’s pant leg.  He was clinging to him as if his life depended on it.

“Not my call, buddy,” Wes responded gently.  His eyes were glassy but soft and fond.  Full of affection.

“Please, don’t go!  Not yet!” he called out.  He couldn’t lose him again.

Wes already fading, furniture visible through his body.

“I have to.  It’s not up to me!”

“Tell me this, I have to know!  Are you really my brother?” Soul gasped, fingers finding his brother’s quickly disappearing hand.

There was a sad smile and matching tears as Wes squeezed tight.  The last words he spoke were the same as the day he died.

“Always, Soul.  I love you.”

 


	27. Wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt oddly satisfying

The floor rumbled and shook beneath Soul’s feet.  Walls fell away to reveal a pitch black void and something viscous and foreboding leaked through cracks in the marble beneath his soles.  It was slippery, faintly sticky, the tang of copper permeating the air.  Blood?  But blood wasn’t black…

_Just the two of us, we can make it if we try…_

“Oh my fucking god, SHUT UP Bill Withers!” Soul screamed.

The room was filling up and up and up with the ebony liquid.  Quite amazing when he realized that there really wasn’t anything left resembling a wall to contain it.  It became a moot point when the inky lake swallowed him.

The darkness was suffocating.  He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel.  All there was to guide Soul was a soulful voice crooning R&B to him.  And so he swam.  He kicked and pulled, shoving his way forward through the thick of nothingness, trying to follow the sound.

_Just the two of us…_

It was fading.  The sound was dissipating and Soul was positive he was going the wrong way.  He could _hear_.  He _could_ , he _could_ , he…no.

No.

 _Yes_.

It took him another moment for his brain to make the connection, but it hit him all at once.  He was deaf.  Sound no longer existed to him.  Anything he heard belonged in the confines of his own head.  If his body wasn’t responding to outside auditory stimuli, he had to be going the right way.  He had to.

He pushed forward.  His lungs burned, screamed, pulsed in desperation for air.  He clawed at the emptiness, seeking the end.  Even as he felt the pressure in his chest crushing him he found he wished not for air, but for Maka.  To see those grassy eyes.  To coax that radiant smile from her after they’d had an argument.  To feel her hand in his.

Maka. _Maka._ **_Maka_.**

A bright flash, blinding pain, and then he's arching his back, fingers swiping at nothing.  Everything is white and sterile.  He smells antiseptic, can feel vibrations against his skin.  There's pressure against his palms, on his legs.  His eyes focus on nothing, until…

* * *

 

“SOUL!”

He was awake.  And panicking.  Alarms were sounding and he was flailing and no one was coming!  So she ran to the hallway and called for help before darting back to his bedside.  He was completely frantic and swinging wildly, cries muffled from the vent in his mouth.

It didn’t matter.  He swung wide and Maka ducked in to crawl atop him and seize his face in her hands as two nurses entered the room to pin down arms and legs. 

”Soul, stop!  You have to stop!” she pleaded. “Please!  It’s ok!  It’s ok, I promise!”

Red eyes darted about in barely restrained mania.  Soul hated being restrained and only fought harder until he was able to focus on blonde hair and the most beautiful, stunning, wonderful emerald irises he had ever seen.  She was talking to him.  She was _there_.

All the fight just drained out of him.  He trembled violently from adrenaline, the nurses taking a moment to make sure he was stable enough to be released.  They tried to get Maka to leave, but Soul’s fingers curled into her shirt and he crushed her to his chest, broken ribs be damned.

He let the vent breathe for him, sickeningly familiar with how terrible it felt to fight the machine.  It didn’t matter.  The bile building in his throat didn’t matter.  Maka was right in front of him.  Alive.  She was fine. 

Soul held her face in hands that tremored and let the tears fall.

* * *

 

Dr. Éclair arrived in time to see his patient clutching a familiar blonde to his chest.  Soul saw him first and narrowed his eyes to near slits.  He looked rather demonic and Dr. Éclair would have been lying to say it wasn’t disconcerting.

Maka simply ran her hands through snowy white hair in an attempt to soothe him.  She knew someone was there, had heard them enter; and Soul’s grip had tightened on her with the new arrival.  She chose not to concern herself with the newcomer and just waited for them to speak.

“Mr. Evans, so nice to see you back amongst the land of the living.”

Soul glared at the surgeon and snorted through his nose.  He could attempt to sign at the intruder, but that would require relinquishing his hold on his girlfriend.  That was simply not going to happen.  Thankfully, Maka was on top of things as she always was.

“He can’t hear you,” she murmured.  “He’s deaf.  Should be in his chart.”

She would have turned to address the doctor more formally, but it just was not going to happen with the way Soul had her trapped.  In any other circumstances Maka would have been offended at such treatment.  But these weren’t normal circumstances.  Soul clung to her out of fear and confusion.  He wasn’t being possessive (at least no more so than he had ever been), he simply needed comfort.

Maka could give that to him at the very least, even if they weren’t…

“Ah, that’s right” Dr. Éclair interrupted her thoughts. “I’ll get an interpreter down here right away.  In the meantime, I really do need to check him over.”

“I’ll do what I can, sir, but I can’t promise he’ll be cooperative.”

The surgeon stared at the back of her head, quirking an eyebrow as he said, “Come now Ms. Albarn, he can’t be that bad?  He’s not an animal.”

He quickly scored his face into a more neutral expression when he heard a low rumble thrum from the albino male’s chest.

Maka tapped gently at Soul’s chest, though her face was stern.

“Stop that, he saved your life,” she chided him before addressing the good doctor once more.  “Animal?  No.  Distressed?  Yes.  He can’t communicate with you, is unfamiliar with you, doesn’t know where he is.  I’m the only thing here that is familiar, and I’m pretty sure he thought I was dead.  Can you blame him?”

The physician blinked, face remaining relatively unreadable, though he found himself smiling the smallest bit as he listened to the young woman advocate for his patient.  She was this man’s voice when he didn’t have one, and he allowed her to be.  He truly wished it were this way for more of his patients.

“Understood.  Can you communicate with him well enough to get him to allow me to check his stitches?”

Maka nodded, as she pressed her forehead to Soul’s.  Her thumbs stroked bruised cheekbones and she kissed an eyebrow before she slowly began rolling off him.  He grunted and grabbed for her desperately, but she only wrapped her fingers around a thick wrist and shushed him.

“It’s ok.  It’s ok.  Just breathe.  I’m not leaving.  It’s fine.”

When he saw she wasn’t trying to vacate the bed, was just moving to settle on her back near his side, Soul allowed himself to relax, fingertips brushing over ashen bangs.

“Have at it, doc.  This is the best I can do for you,” Maka announced, her fingers interlaced with the larger man.

A skeptical crimson eye rolled towards the approaching surgeon, menace glinting in the startlingly bright iris.  It gave the doctor pause.

“Stop that, Soul!” Maka scowled as she tugged at his hair.  “Christ, you’re acting like a feral kitten!  Don’t worry, sir.  He’s all hiss, no bite.”

The good doctor allowed himself a chuckle at the comment, moving to inspect his incision sites with quick efficiency.  The faster he examined the man, the quicker he could leave him be to relax and heal.

“It looks like he popped a couple of stitches that I’ll need to take care of.  I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

“Why, Dr. Éclair, do I detect a sense of humor?” Maka smirked at him from the security of Soul’s arms.

“I have to admit, Ms. Albarn, that something about you brings it out in me.  I’ve worked surgery for many years now, seen many things.  Many terrible things.  I’ve seen fights the likes of which you couldn’t even imagine, trying to decide whether to save a family member or let them go.  What measures to take to prolong a life that really isn’t worth prolonging.  The number of times I have seen someone advocate for a patient the way you do for him…it is a rare thing.  He is lucky to have you.”

“Oh…I…thank you,” Maka fumbled lamely.

“No.  Thank you.  I’ll send a nurse in in a couple of minutes to fix those sutures.  Keep him quiet in the meantime to be sure he doesn’t tear more open.”

Maka nodded, gently turning herself so she could bury her face in Soul’s neck, uncaring of the eyes that watched the pair of them for a moment longer before departing.

Soft puffs of breath warmed the crown of her head, shallow but even.  Soul had fallen asleep.  They’d given him some pain killers shortly after he woke along with a sedative for a chaser and it seemed they’d all finally kicked in.  That was just fine.

Long fingers delicately threaded their way through strands of moonlight and she placed a gentle kiss on his throat before settling in to try and nap herself.  The hand tucked against his chest curled into his hospital gown, his arm tightening around her waist in response, and she sighed.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Maka whispered before dewy eyes closed and she let sleep take her.


	28. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently needed a pregnancy long break from this fic (I hit a wall). This chapter is short, but dialogue heavy, and it makes me happy

Due to the fact that Soul had no elevator access to his apartment and his ailments included three broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken leg, and a fractured collarbone, it was decided that Soul would stay with Maka while he healed.  Soul was less than thrilled with the decision.  He had tried his best to argue for his independence, but was promptly shot down.

The point had been made that stairs were impossible for him to navigate and even working on the bikes wasn’t possible in his current condition.  That had not made him any more agreeable.

“You want Black*Star to take care of you?” Maka had asked.

Red eyes had gone wide before he shook his head the best he could with a broken collarbone and a vent in his mouth.  Jesus fuck, he’d never make it out of that apartment alive!  Between Star’s less than stellar housekeeping skills, his insane energy levels, and his constant attempts to bone his girlfriend, Soul would either starve there or die buried beneath a mound of trash.

And thus Soul found his battered body comfortably situated on Maka’s couch, in Maka’s living room, in Maka’s apartment.  It had already been two days, and to say things were strained between the pair was an understatement.  Neither one of them brought up the elephant in the room, dutifully avoiding conflict.  That mostly meant avoiding each other, with Maka spending more time at work and Soul hiding away in her guest bedroom.

Soul didn’t like it.

Maka liked it even less.

On the evening of the third day, Soul broke the proverbial silence.  He stared down at the Thai food she had ordered, felt a strange warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the curry he was consuming, and blurted, “I was going to tell you.”

The blonde raised her head to offer a quizzical glance, but said nothing.

He gently placed his chopsticks on the side of his plate before he dropped back against the couch cushions, sighing heavily.  Red eyes flicked towards the ceiling and then found green irises staring at him, waiting patiently.  She was always waiting for him.

“I wanted to tell you about the room.  I did.  I just...how do you tell someone about something like that, Maka?”

“I don’t understand,” she said, biting her lip.

“I know it’s not cool to keep secrets, I just…”

Maka held up a hand to ask him to stop, shaking her head as she did so.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me.  I don’t understand why you keep that room at all.  Why you torture yourself like that.”

Soul sucked in a breath, swallowing roughly and allowing his gaze to fall to his lap.

“Is that what you think?  That I do it to keep hurting?” he huffed a laugh, head tipping as he contemplated that notion.  “I mean, I guess it’s stupid of me to think that you _wouldn’t_ believe that.  That anybody wouldn’t believe that.  But that’s not why I have that room.”

Maka remained silent, tucking her legs against her chest and hugging them, just waiting for him to continue.  If she had learned anything over the last few months it was that Soul only used his voice when he had something truly important to say.  It would behoove her to listen instead of being reactionary, like she had been.  That’s why they were where they were right now…why things were so…

“Stop doing that.”

“Huh?”

“You’re overthinking again.  I can see it.”

She snorted at him and hid her face in her arms.

“You were going to find out one way or another, Maka.  You just found that place before I was ready.  And even then, it wasn’t your fault.  You didn’t seek it out.  It just happened.”

Soul raised his good arm to run a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingertips brushed across some stitches.  He was trying to think of the best way to proceed, but there really wasn’t one.  He’d already gotten this far, though, so he may as well continue.

“I keep that room for the things that were written about them.  To remind myself that I should be…grateful.  I wasn’t…I wasn’t a good son.  I wasn’t a _bad_ son, but I wasn’t a good one either.  And I didn’t appreciate my brother enough, or what he tried to do for me when I was young.  Yeah, my parents were overbearing, and the pressure got to me at times, but, they were, y’know…parents.  They wanted what was best for me.  We just disagreed on what the best thing for me was.”

“Soul…”

“The night they all died, we were on our way home from the symphony.  We were attendees for a change, not the headliners,” he laughed, the sound pained and wry.  “We hadn’t fought.  I hadn’t told them I hated them.  In fact, we didn’t talk at all.  The drive was quiet, peaceful.  It was raining out and we were just listening to it fall while dad drove.  A motorcycle came around a corner, going too fast for the weather.  The rider lost control of the bike, it crossed lanes, crashed through the windshield…and that was it.”

Soul’s eyes had glazed over as he spoke, recalling every detail.  There were still no tears, but he looked so very far away.  Maka couldn’t have stopped herself from moving if she tried.  She left her chair in favor of curling up against his good side on the couch.  His fingers automatically found her hair, combing through it while he exhaled with a shudder.

“The last thing I ever heard…the very last thing…was Wes telling me that he loved me, and the sound of rain.  I love the rain.  I loved…love Wes.  And my mother and father.  I keep that room not to remind myself of what I lost, but to acknowledge that I had it in the first place.  I never wanted fame, or to be rich.  I never wanted to be what they were.  But I was never ashamed to be an Evans, either.  I just didn’t want my _only_ value to be in my last name.”

He finally took the chance to look at Maka again, finding her eyes red and wet.  His forehead dropped to press against hers, trying to close the distance that had separated them for the past three days.

“Please don’t cry.”

How could she not cry?

A cautious hand raised up to stroke a heavily stubbled cheek.  He wasn’t able to shave with his busted ribs and collarbone, so he had a bit of a beard going.  She hated it.  But she loved that he was there for her to hate it.

She loved _him._  

That wasn’t a revelation in and of itself.  She’d known it for several weeks.  But now?  Now she was ready to say it.  And so she leaned away from him, far enough that he could watch her hands.  She’d been practicing this for days…she could do this.

Her hands were sweaty and they shook, her face was screwed up in ridiculous concentration, but slowly, so slowly, her fingers began moving.

_We all have secrets, Soul.  That’s ok.  I have secrets, too._

Maka paused just long enough to check for a reaction from him.  Wide eyes that moved back and forth between her hands and her face were proof enough that he was paying attention.

_I shouldn’t have pushed you.  I was wrong, and I’m sorry._

“Maka…” he breathed her name like a prayer.

She silenced him with a sign over his heart and three sweet words on her lips.

“I love you.”


End file.
